A small scab on her head. Perfectly round and almost healed.
She tore it off. Seeds deep within began to sprout, long stems grew
from the scab-crusted hole. Flowers bloomed.
watered with blood
The sun broiled at its peak. Puddles grew thin and dry. Gluttonous bees lay
fossilized in clumps of rusted brick at the roots of her hair.
Those still alive hurried back to their queen.
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup milk
1/4 cup butter, melted
burnt sugar scabs