Marshmallows

Marshmallows have a way

of huddling together

Electrically,

Not by force, but by

Choice

The longer they’re together,

The closer they become

But it doesn’t

Change

Not with the fear

They stuff, they stuff

Hollowed out in

Dark places,

and covered in plastic

The metal is fired up

The fire is made of glass

Wind carries ice in its grip, heavily

Armed

Trees outside, made of paper,

and so very full of messages

So there they grow, over the

Swirling

of the stove.

Marshmallows small, marshmallows tall

Forgetful and colourful and all

Mixed

Together, for pictures and electric light