Cake Poem by Andrew Fincham

Perhaps
the folks that stand
along Szépvölgy út.
on Saturday
observing Daubner’s ritual
evoke the
bare-shelved bakers
of the empty years

(although
in fact
the queues reflect
new affluence
that flows through
Pest)

Pro tem
these times afford
the ever-patient neighbours
chance to chat
to chew the fat
& chide another’s restless child
Before they buy
Their sugar treat

(post-fall
the memory
of cake
stays sweet
before its
ate) .