The Nonpareils: As Told by the Woman in the Gingerbread House
I wasn’t a sorcerer or ugly witch
and I didn’t stir a black cauldron
or saw women in half for a show.
Neither would I conjure magical
spirits like Merlin or quell rivalries,
like the hexes of Baron Samedi.
Yes, I was single, lonely, drawn
black—but a creator, a baker at heart,
who just wanted sweet deliciousness.
So what if it came at the expense
of trespassing, precocious thieves,
foolishly unafraid of the dark woods.
Those were my lemon drops,
cherry lollipops, and iced candies
that they gobbled with sticky fingers.
I was minding my business mixing
an angel-food cake and needed
spice, salt, sugar and leavening.
The oven was ready, pan greased,
and diet abandoned for heavenly,
tender, candy-coated siblings.