pyramids of dots

[zapp’s flavour trapp]

zapp slipped half a handful of barbecue

chips past his coffeestained teeth, his

lips curling in tiny arcs like the face of his key

to the cellar where, beneath two loose

floorboards, he hides his sheets of recipes

so small that only magnified eyes can see

the wonders which lay beneath: layers of cheese

incomparable to anything you’ve ever eaten.

neat rows of garden greens, snowpeas especially

lined alongside sweet-potato slices, peels

of carrot arched in flowing smiles while he

the chef of many dreams kneals, snaps his teeth

as though under spell of the sauce’s sweet

aroma, concocted over open flame and stirred

with acrobatic gestures so dizzying in their speed

and grace that not even the keenest peepers could

catch, in-between a blink, what chef zapp

sprinkled to make bubble such a succulent saucey cauldron

[from nofriends’ tumblrrrrr]