Roman Candy (Strawberry Flavored)

---

Behind the window of a cart

behind a mule, pounds of pink 

taffy on a hook like a suspended pig

in a slaughterhouse.

Gravity; the clot’s midsection

thinned and bottom drooped

until gloved hands folded 

clump over clump.

Dollar a stick!

One hand pulled; the other, with scissors,

snipped, and candy plopped onto 

a marble slab—

a child-friendly display

of evisceration that ended with a snack

wrapped in wax paper so thin

it teased me like see-through

lingerie does. 

I pretended to be a gourmand

indifferent to white tablecloths and light 

jazz—hoof clops delighted my ears as much

as the sidewalk did my legs. I felt like a crow 

tearing away a snake’s back

when I tore away paraffin;

a glare on the exposed pink

seemed a vanilla stripe,

but the candy smelled of air

more than of berry or bean.

I bit, craned my neck.

A wisp between mouth

and stick broke then

floated onto chin stubble. 

I tasted the scent of strawberry

candles: sweetness dulled 

with modest tang—delicious

imitation! My second bite,

I made it too large. Taffy gripped,

like dental forceps, my teeth!

I spat out a candy-coated molar.

Blood-and-flavoring swill

filled my mouth—I never knew

I could be so sweet!

---

Ryan Mayer is a poet and writer based in New Orleans, LA. Ryan graduated from Loyola University with a BA in English (creative writing); he is currently pursuing an MFA at The University of New Orleans.

---