Cronut

Poem "Cronut"
Poem “Cronut”

Full text version of the poem:

“CRONUT”

First

I watered myself down
I wanted to make myself more
digestible
for you
until I was merely
a hint of this and a dash of that
an undefinable simmering
sour
stew.
You
barely sniffed at me before
turning away–uninterested,
uninteresting
and I so easily
so carelessly disposed of
down that ominous drain.

Then

I spread myself thin like dough
I wanted to stretch my being as far as possible
I thought I had to touch
everything
your eyes were going to touch.
I wanted you
to see the light
falling through me
and you saw through me
but not the light.

In my last and silliest attempt

I tried being
a  cronut.
I figured I’d just be
all the very best things
I had got in one and finally
you
would stand in line for
me.
But I did not come in a golden box
and I found it difficult
to be “both creamy and flaky”
to carry with grace that shitty, pinkish, melting glaze
and –above all– to form that perfect little circle
because try as I might I was
born with two ends.

That is when it hit me

I don’t even want to be
a fucking cronut

I doubt anyone ever really was
one
and I highly doubt anyone ever
needed one.
I am even doubtful they actually
exist.

Suddenly

I know very well what I am
and I know that I have all this beautiful
fractured light in me
and I finally remember that light has no form,

light

just

is.

Oh the irony of it!
I am coming full circle
my ends finally connect
I un-stretch myself
I roll myself up in the oddball
I am
I boil off the water
mercilessly
until I know I am
just me

right here
right now.
No

I am not palatable.
Go ahead and turn away
in disgust because
I am not exquisite or delicate
I am not a perfectly balanced blend
and I don’t come with toppings on top
with little sprinkles and sparkles and schmarkles and
swirls.

In the end

I am and do
exactly one thing
and I am not even sure
I do it well
but it’s what I do
and have done
and
will do

forever.

 

– “Cronut” | (c) Anabel Hafstad | 2017 Oslo

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