Ingredients

Went through, turned, looked back.
Is this paper? A scene? Are they kissing?
In profile, perfect, nose to lip to chin.
But not an image, not photography.
I rest my case; my case
is resting, like dough. I
went through hoping to greet you
on the dark side. Moon?
Hello, I might have called into the sky.
Hello? It might have been a question.
What is this word, hello? It holds
some dark components, some
poor ingredients. I speak at times
of a poem’s ingredients, as if I were
making a pie. What would Paul
Hollywood make of my poem-pie?
He would say, I’m not getting it, the it
being a flavor I said I had added
but did not come through; the crust
underproved. Prue is kinder.
She compliments verisimilitude,
the sweet decorative touches
essential to taste. What shall I make
today? I am going to the market
to get some eggs, some milk.
I will see what is fresh: blueberries, rue.