Oh, Mama Kat. Why must you make me relive this?
2.) Write a poem about a memory you sometimes wish would disappear.
It was a warm night in Florence.
The old city rose about me, all stone walls and cathedrals.
We sat around the table, covered in brown paper, littered with the remains of a feast,
And we said “Yes!” when she asked
If we wanted dessert.
It came in a small cup. Glass, so we could see each layer.
Two forks – one for my brother-in-law, one for me.
Gently we pressed the tines down,
Down through the cream,
Through the mascarpone,
Through the ladyfingers soaked in fresh espresso and rum.
Sweet, lovely tiramisu.
Heaven in a glass cup, so small yet so rich.
A dessert born of Florence, never found again.
At least not as good.
I dream of tiramisu, of Florence, of heaven.
I long to forget. I yearn for more.
But when the dessert menu arrives here in America,
I order the crème brulee.