NYU Black Renaissance Noire Spring 2015 - Page 107

DESSERT ONLY He pulled each one from the display case gingerly, as if they were newborn birds. Set each in its own box with tissue, wrapped the delicacies as if offerings for royalty. He saw my smile and knew that they were. He picked the fruit tart with the ripest strawberries and kiwi; the dark chocolate flourless with intact skin. I gently swung the bag in the afternoon light, my saffron thoughts and ochre flashbacks suffused with colors prismed from a midnight sun, flesh still hot. All these years and my ears have yet to listen once caressed. But my eyes have learned to detect a dream or a hope drop from the softest of beds and land like a robin’s egg on hardwood. They take in the untouched bag left on the counter for days, gifts steadily crusting over. Hungry, I swallow the silence of things unopened, the coffined sweetness within. 105 BLACK RENAISSANCE NOIRE The smile he obliged — that fine wrapper at the gourmet bakery I’ll likely never visit again — all of that solo beaming sinks back down into a private sea. BRN-SPRING-2015.indb 105 3/29/15 11:42 AM