Long Distance Relationship

I found pound
cake in my mouth.

Perfectly baked,
resting on my tongue.

Whenever I removed
a slice, another took its place.

“Dear?” I said
to you, sounding mumbly

like I had
pound cake in my mouth.

The cakes were overtaking
the kitchen.

You exhaled from the other room.
“Can you come here?” I asked.

I started sweating. The cakes continued.
Our neighbors knocked and noticed

the cakes escaping
my mouth. We’d worked so hard

to not be odd. “What is it?” you
finally said, still within

the other room, grooming
our newborn stork.

Benjamin Niespodziany is a Pushcart Prize nominee and Best Microfiction nominee with work in Peach Mag, Fence, Salt Hill, The Spectacle, and various others. He works nights in a library in Chicago.

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