The slice I ate I want it back
Those crumbs I swept up
I’d like my share again
I can still taste it like it was

The memory by itself is delicious
Each bite was a small miracle
Both nourishing and sweet
I wish I had saved just a little bit

I know it wasn’t a literal cake
It’s the thought that counts
Like a gift that’s not store-bought
Making it even more special

Like a dream that makes you
Want to go back to sleep
You can’t have your cake
And eat it too Momma said

I was defiant and hardheaded
And answered yes I can too
The look she gave me said boy
I hope you aren’t a fool all your life

from Poetry Magazine, Vol. 198, no. 4