Monday, May 10, 2010

Tuesday Poem

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.

© T. Clear

More Tuesday Poems can be found here.


  1. One of my favorites! Love "filagree swirl."

  2. Emptyness can be many times the very reason to exist, e.g. a cup, a window or door, making it function, like a promise in the making, like those cookies you so beautiful wrote about.
    A wonderful Tuesday for you.

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  3. Oh, how this poem jumps with loss, and you bring together so much you know about baking, ingredients and implements: "Unhinged springform."

  4. cakes of ashes, bonedust.

    and 'unhinged springform' brought to mind another who is unhinged. sigh.

    a beautiful poem of loss, T.

  5. I am touched by the very many ways you honour your loved one(s), T. . .

    L, Claire

  6. Thank you, T. Your poem brings comfort--as did the cake and pie, but this has lasting power. I will savor this poem; it speaks to my heart where currently there is "no taste, no scent, no filigree swirl of icing. Not a crumb."
    With love and admiration,