Hummingbird Cake

A zip zing
lemon batter, butter
those beaking feet.

No, she won’t take walnuts.
The cracking shells break her.

Wring their belling necks instead,
throw them in like drums.
Their wings crisped flatter, no flutter here
to sweep the icing.

All silent, all stilled
all making way  
for the candle-blown day.

The lady desires
her hummingbird cake.