Impromptu Day 8

[spacedlaw]

Harold Abramowitz asked us to write something you cannot remember: a memory of something – a story, an anecdote, a song, another poem, a recipe, an episode of a television program, anything, that you only partially or imperfectly remember.
(Multiple versions, at least 6, of this memory should be written)


Proportions have flown away first
Then ingredients, one by one
Leaving only ghosts and suggestions behind
This is not pastry making, the sturdy chemical art of goodness
This is alchemy at its most adventurous
Fundamental pillars faded
Lost in a decrepit crevice of my memory.


What I remember is the provocation,
The roundabout architecture of this cake.
But its memory has blended with other adventures
Making bastard cakes of Boschian quality
In a dark corner of my imagination.
Eggs.


Eggs for sure.
And white beans.
Chocolate?


It has to hold together.
The architecture must be there
Or the cake would collapse.
So proteins are needed
Which is how beans came to be
Bringing moisture as well.
But the same would apply to eggs.
Something concrete is missing:
Where are the solids?
What were the walls made of?


It’s soft and moist
[My tongue can still remember that]
Just like cream baked into submission.
Vanilla sticks to the memory buds however
I cannot be sure I have not invented the almond feel
[This is worse than wine tasting]
Whence do I get this whiff of chocolate?
Barrique?


I could have sworn there was chocolate
It is a cake after all: what good would it be without chocolate?
And I remember the beans, of course.
How could anyone forget something as ludicrous as beans?


My mind is baked.
Thank goodness for Pinterest.



For anybody interested, I think THIS was the recipe I was trying to remember.
(But somehow I was remembering something with dark chocolate!)

Comments

Delightful!

[(Anonymous)]

Your poem made me smile. :)