gretel's nightmare

gretel’s nightmare

if this house of glass
became gingerbread on a whim,
where am i to stand,
hungry within and without,
the rain falling
reducing the wall to
so much mush,
the frosting
once strong mortar, now
lacy thin between my fingers,
to have and to hold
nothing much,
this sickening sweet mess,
the licorice tiles
which once shingled the roof,
i now gather by the handfuls,
their good & plenty sticking
to my molars
reminding me of
what is and what is not
for keeps.