RON KOERTGE

             But a wily guard probes.

             Carries everything

              to Warden Hardin

              who closes the door

              so they can take

              turns licking icing

              off the blade, imagining

              that inmate’s wife:

               recipe on the cutting board,

               fingerprints disguised

               by Gold Medal flour.

               What would it be like

                they wonder if someone

                loved them that much.