Flan

Flan quivers yellow 
In the underground 
Where rats walk by 
Nibbling on rodenticide 
While humans scurry past 
Huffing suicide 

Flan quivers yellow 
In the overground 
On the wide boulevard 
Of red lights, pimp suits 
And street evangelists 
Preaching to the beat of 
Shit and indifference 

Flan quivers yellow 
Delicate, brown caramel 
Sugar crust 
For chapped lips 
And tired eyes 
That delight in the 
Blithe stream of dog piss 

Flan quivers yellow 
That whore of softness, 
The butter-custard salve 
For aching teeth, 
Sore throats, 
And love-starved mouths 

Flan quivers yellow 
On the table 
Next to a spoon 
Whose handle pictures 
The engraving of nothing 
Beautiful, but the scratches 
Of years and use 

Flan quivers yellow 
In the mouth 
Unctuous like the sperm oil 
Of some beast of pleasure 
Elusive and never caught, 
Hardening the heart. 

Flan quivers yellow 
In the darkest pit of the body 
While in the hollow 
Of the head an emptiness, 
Excepting one desire: 
To open the mouth 
And sing.