Into a Carrot Muffin
  Tyler Gabrysh

A deliberate silky curl of innocent butter
pressed into a carrot muffin,
as if you’re plating generosity itself,
or plating your own splendid ambition.

The unwarranted me, recklessly possessed
although I’ve tired of relational poems,
and the wish you gripped a steak knife,
deftly puncturing the air and
belief you’re this thoughtful,

but yet you remain,
foreign to most,
foreign to my unleashing moods,
the agility and resource of your temperament
into a carrot muffin,

a dollop of thick syrup filling
in the shallowness,
a decorative plate left for returning,
an excuse for one more visit.

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