Mr. Better Than Sex…Cake

The seduction begins with 
an orgy of chocolate cake mix, 
devil’s food, because, well…
given his titular title he has 
a reputation to defend.
Add a ménage a trois of eggs, 
and wetness, water, if you will, 
and a fair amount of lubricant, 
cooking oil, to the connoisseur, 
to meld the mix into a smooth batter. 

He prefers a preheated oven to do 
his rising, filling the entire room 
with the aroma of his decadence,
foreplay to what comes next after 
about thirty minutes or so.

While still warm from the oven,
with a wooden skewer, or fork,
poke holes in the cake, reservoirs 
to be filled with a slathering 
of sweetened condensed milk…

“Oh, but I’m not finished with you yet!” 
he teases playfully, inviting me
add a smooth layer of caramel sauce
and another of sweet whipped cream, 
with a sprinkling of crushed chocolate 
toffee candy…”yes please! chocolate on 
chocolate…oooh, yes, yes! Please don’t 
stop…here, and there, and oh…there…”
a drizzling of caramel syrup brings 
this all to a climactic finish!

“Ooh la la, Mr. Better Than Sex Cake,
I am breathless, you’ve outdone yourself! 
My tender tastebuds are tingling!
I think I need…a tall glass of milk!”

A Note to the Avid Gourmet: 
There are a few variations to this 
recipe that include ingredients 
such as vanilla cake mix and 
pineapple…but in my humble 
opinion, vanilla is well, vanilla 
and pineapple is too sweet. I like 
my cake dark, decadent, slightly 
bitter, and smooth to the tongue. 

~kat

NaPoWriMo 2023 Challenge Day Twenty-Nine: write your own two-part poem that focuses on a food or type of meal. At some point in the poem, describe the food or meal as if it were a specific kind of person. Give the food/meal at least one line of spoken dialogue.

the buttercups of recollection

memories of my feral youth
flash like jiffy pop in my head 
at the sight of buttercups in bloom
what wild little beasts we were
slamming the screen door on
our way to never land at dawn
small change in our pockets
to spend on penny candy, the
streetlights striking midnight
at dusk when all good brats
scurried back home before
turning into pumpkins, days
in the sunshine with dandelion 
stem curls in our hair, the gritty
satisfying taste of mud, fashioning 
queen Anne’s lace into bouquets,
collecting fossil rocks, garden
snakes in coffee tins, and pop
bottles to earn enough money,
50 cents, for a Saturday matinee
fearless, it’s a wonder any 
of us survived considering how
cautiously we rear our progeny 
in 21st century bubbles…once
upon a lifetime ago monsters hid
under our beds or in the closet 
never dared to stalk us in daylight…
simpler times then, nights illuminated 
by fireflies in pickle jars
buttercups glowing under our 
chins to prove we liked butter
ringing round rosies like whirligigs 
on a breeze, down, down…to ashes

~kat

NaPoWriMo 2023 Challenge Day Twenty/Seven: write your own poem titled “The ________ of ________,” where the first blank is a very particular kind of plant or animal, and the second blank is an abstract noun. The poem should contain at least one simile that plays on double meanings or otherwise doesn’t quite make “sense,” and describe things or beings from very different times or places as co-existing in the same space.