Thursday, May 31, 2007

No Tarte Bakery

Cup is empty, spilled
quarter by eighth

into cake of ashes,
bonedust. Spoon

minus table- and tea-.
Unhinged springform,

amorphous bundt. Sugar
dissolved, rippled

down drain. Powder, soda
whisked away. Praise

cookie no more,
praise nothing.

Once pie bubbled
golden with crowns --

not again. Rattle the lock,
lose the key. No taste,

no scent, no
filigree swirl

of icing. Not
a crumb.

No comments:

Post a Comment