Warm and gooey from the oven
He knows he started out innocent,
Squeezed with love from a scoop.
His skin smoothed and patted
Before he birthed beneath a cozy 350°,
Surrounded by his fellow doughboys.

He never knew his lopsided curves
And lumpy chocolate chips
Meant a lifetime of watching
The spaces around him grow,
The buttery circles that taught him
He was something different.

As crumbs tumbled from him,
He knew his time was coming.
A buttery disposition can’t last
Forever, he thinks. Too soon,
Moisture will creep into soft cusps
And—he shudders, I will be stale.

This last cookie wants to tell you
Beneath his crumbling curves
He has a heart of melted chocolate
And a soul of satin sugar.
But I want to tell you: too late,
This last cookie is mine.