Midnight Chant
The lights are out,
but the glow
from underneath my door
illuminates select items
around the room.
I can’t see it,
but I know it’s there…
a Snowball sitting
tauntingly on my bookshelf.
It’s begging,
from the darkness of the far wall,
to be released
from its cellophane.
My eyes forget to blink
as they focus on the dark,
and try to envision the sweet dome.
Racing thoughts of
beach vacations,
bikinis and tan lines
fail to avert me.
The coconut will be crunchy
come tomorrow;
the marshmallow will harden
overnight;
the hidden chocolate cake,
shielded by these
colorless sugars,
will take longer to grow stale,
but why take the chance?
Junky calories
resonate from underneath
fluffy cream filling…
my ears strain
to resist what can not be
muffled by plastic wrap–
hostess hostess hostess.
By the invasion of hallway lights,
my fingers become thumbs
as they frantically rip the wrapper,
shoving 6 fat grams
into my mouth
with three swift bites.
