Anything but cookies will be removed. Finally, as you bake these cookies, remember to pray, pray for the men who will eat them. White mothwings glue themselves to blackberries, green mold creeps over the nippled lemon, lesions mar the pear's perfect complexion, and this old orange has shrunken into a nose made bulbous and pock-marked by gout. It cannot be contained. Unseen worms mine the acorns for nutmeats and the candle burns itself into a wickless puddle.
Fruit flies reel like tiny gulls above the table, and pits shift inside their fruit.
Their eggs hatch. Apparently, the half-witted studio assistant has neglected the still life again. Soon, Mignon will return to the warm smell of rot. A box elder bug rubs its red-lined body against a brick of chocolate and trembles with ecstasy. Apricots weep their juice, wet slug-trails glisten in the slanting light, and insect bellies crawl over the marble, towards the open window.