Saturday, October 5, 2013


the cheese filled brunch upon the counter
the guests in dim attire flounder
the sun has given up - what else to do
the dusk filled day would rather stew
upon the dinner table’s rack
upon the lamb’s once sturdy back
lie slices of the freshest mint
drizzled with a salty hint
 of all we’ve taken from the earth
and what remains but broken mirth
as smiles lie deadened on the floor
as guests have slithered out the door
a midnight snack is all that’s left
one would think the hosts would feel bereft
but there is a grand uplifting way
of feeding staff when cannibals have spent the day

guiding pool boys into rooms
swooning like complete buffoons
upon the rotting remnants 
of all those meals

upon the maid’s stillettoed heel
upon the leftover dawning hunch
that food has never been so crunched
beneath the sloth of plenty’s horn

the table napkins look forlorn
the forks have lost their lust for life
the spoons crave each other’s cradled strife
the knives are lurking in the sink

the pool boy's brawn in fleshy pink
the counter grins
blue cheese may blush
the guest who stayed can feel the hush

the sun may squeal
the dew may die
mimosas stagger toward the sky

No comments:

Post a Comment