Hard Boiled

Buttery chagrin

oozes from my pores,

melting into

a febrile feast.

 

I work with gravity,

its oily sway, 

sliding along

in mute terror.
 

Body spread thick,

fingertip-licked,

rich whisper of cream.

 

The screaming lobsters

are poised,

tiny forks trembling.


Previous
Previous

Through the Donut Hole

Next
Next

Hidden Rites