“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.