Some thoughts on realizing this is THE END.
Today I ate the last lebkuchen [unplanned].
Fitting for a drizzly Friday:
no silver platter, no fanfare;
just a Tupperware container
and a cup of coffee
from the office break room.
Today I ate the last lebkuchen [unintentionally].
The taste of ginger and black licorice
mixes with the bitter blackness of my morning brew,
the hardened sugar glaze
snaps and crunches,
and I eventually tip the crumbs
into my upturned mouth.
Today I ate the last lebkuchen [unintended].
Not the last of the season or of the year
– the last, ever.
Others styling themselves as such,
imported in embossed tins and gilded boxes
come not from the hometown bakery, lying silent
– recipes dormant, machinery still, counters empty.
Though one should buy it,
restore the electricity, open the doors,
the lebkuchen would not be the same.
The rude mechanicals produce but marred facsimiles
devoid the loving secrets
the dedication of decades brings.
Today I ate the last lebkuchen [accidentally].
Now I face an eternity without them:
the yapping maw of the abyss
will long for their divinity
and remain unsatisfied;
as I gaze into it
and it back at me,
we will remember this small joy
of life and smile
I’ve been experimenting with my writing, and I want to know: