Ice Cream

Alexander Nay

I heat the spoon

to cut through the ice +cream more smoothly

Melt a milky path.

I raise it over the stove-top

which burns in deep crimson

slowly warms the silver spade

Then I plow, through layers of cream

like some archaeologist with an unappeasable sweet tooth

I scoop and level my findings onto, apple-pie, or dark fudge, or fruits.

There’s the stuff that makes the young or old, ladies and gents

tongues twist, and mouths drip with anticipation.

and it never last long.