by Julia Griffin

“What is Zabar’s without Saul?”
—Grub Street

(After Auden)

Drop all the lox, cut out the cheesecake cone,
Brush the last dustings from the pizza stone,
Box up the last precious scraps of crumb.
Bring out the menu with a sigh of “Yum!”

Set special grains on the last true bread,
Spelling the words “What a splendid Spread.”
Put Brie below and pastrami above;
Set it on tablecloths the gods might love.

Anyone who has a mouth will here attest:
His schmear was peerless, his babka blessed,
His challah golden, his coffee strong,
His Reuben paninis a full foot long.

The stars are hungry now; they’ve had their final bun;
Pack up the spoons, see, the long shift’s done;
Save your mementos, dream of all you’ve chewed;
For nowhere now will ever serve you real food.