I
Among the treasures in the bakery case
The only perfect thing
Was the sphere of the donut.
II
I was of three hearts,
Like a box
In which there are three donuts.
III
The donut crumbled on the porcelain plate.
It was a small part of the breakfast.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a donut
Means the man doesn't get a donut.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of the glazed
Or the beauty of the cream-filled,
Oh who am I kidding,
I'll just get both.
VI
Petits-fours filled the long window
With barbaric squares.
The circle of the donut
Hemmed it left and right.
The mood
Traced in the circle
An exquisite anticipation.
VII
Oh thin chicks of Zumba,
Why do you imagine celery stalks?
Do you not see how the donut
Draws smiles on the lips
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know crispy kale chips
And translucent pearls of quinoa,
But I know, too,
That the donut is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the donut rolled onto the floor,
It marked in glaze
A perfect circle.
X
At the sight of donuts
Arriving in their cardboard box,
Both of my children
Will cry out joyfully.
XI
He rode over to Krispy Kreme
In a minivan.
Once a fear pierced him,
In that he thought
There would be
No Hot Donuts Now.
XII
The oil is bubbling.
The donuts must be frying.
XIII
It was morning all afternoon.
There was a soccer game
And there was going to be another one.
The donut sat
Wrapped in the mother's purse.
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