Treasure

Shirtless all seasons, towel tucked into his pj’s waistband, leather moccasin-slippers. Poppy lifts me onto the wrought iron stool. I can reach, stir, spoon.

Saturday morning, just we two cook pancakes, green bowl. Black-handled spoon. Chuffs a rhythmic tune mixing egg, milk, flour, batter. Clicks against Corningware. Our ceremony.

“Careful! Skillet handle’s too hot to touch!” Spatula blade smoothes oil. Water-droplets hiss, we smell metal’s heat.

Silver dollar pancakes he calls them. We exhale with batter’s melting spread. We flip these coins. Saturdays, we amass treasure on oven-warmed plates.

Rachael Ikins
Central New York Branch, NY

Editor’s note: I’ve gotten so many great submissions for Flash Fiction October, I’m turning this into Flash Fiction Fall! Please continue, Pen Women, to write and send, if you haven’t contributed yet. Remember: 1 entry per Pen Woman, 100 words or fewer, your name and branch or MAL under your story, and be creative! The best 30 will be included in a chapbook. I have a story that got separated from its email titled Matthew 7:2 without a name–please let me know if it’s yours. The Poem of the Week will return in November. –Treanor Baring