1 minute read
Recipe: Snowplow
B. Tyler Lee
8 oz hot chocolate, prepared 1 oz Bailey’s Irish Cream 1 oz Malibu coconut rum ½ oz Crème de Cacao Whipped cream Cinnamon
1. Begin low: Pow—right in the warm place within me. Powdered sugar, sweet even when I growl cold.
2. The only good plow starts with a request, a bow that says, Turn me over; make me new. I’ve never told you otherwise: Yes, I asked this of him. Yes, he and I both wanted him to, and he did.
3. I could douse you in a kind of tropic-drowsing: I picture you in coconut-shell bikini, opening cacao seeds in your hands, overflowing at a touch.
4. But come, let’s be more honest: With you a half-country away, my ground’s frozen, unplowable. I thaw only at the tips of your fingers—towel-clean, pleasure-cowed. Grown low.
5. Lead with whiskey; close with cream.
6. He and I, we whipped frenzy together, sprinkled it across our days like I’d never go fallow. As if we’d never eat a ploughman’s lunch and call it nouvelle cuisine, we’d open our days and blow.
7. Cold nights, I beg you to come sooner; plowed again, rum rattling across the line. But in my shame, I know the truth: All I want is my body to remain a field, soft animals prowling, year after year—moonfall, snowrise.
Landscape 7
