“What are you doing?” I say,
And Kristen grins like the Cheshire Cat after
one-too-many beers, peeling the skin off her marshmallow
like the skin from a grape.
It falls away in a flaky spiral
as if departing the body of a reptile.
A moment suspends the sugary screen,
its transparent sides housing
silhouettes of flame.
My eyes rest on her fingers
as they pinch the crispy shell between
thumb and index, and Kristen smiles maniacally.
“I like it better this way, she tells me,
and crunches while lowering the fleshy, naked puff
back into the fire for another round of burning.