I made up games, like Hiding the Body,
and How Far on Two Dollars a Day.
My favorite was a special dinner menu
of infinite detail, resentment gazpacho
in hand-painted Royal Copenhagen
seasoned by a soupçon of intolerance, garnished
with insults and disdain. Main course,
a steak tartar cloaked in highly spiced deglaze
of retribution on a bed of bruised dreams;
chased by a Tiramisu gloat, coffee and biscuits.
Every time a blow connected or a verbal
spear pierced, I added another course.
Until it was a banquet fit for global
meeting of leaders, cooked by staff of hundreds.
Table decorations included heads on platters
and real digits in the finger bowls.
My favorite was a special dinner menu
of infinite detail, resentment gazpacho
in hand-painted Royal Copenhagen
seasoned by a soupçon of intolerance, garnished
with insults and disdain. Main course,
a steak tartar cloaked in highly spiced deglaze
of retribution on a bed of bruised dreams;
chased by a Tiramisu gloat, coffee and biscuits.
Every time a blow connected or a verbal
spear pierced, I added another course.
Until it was a banquet fit for global
meeting of leaders, cooked by staff of hundreds.
Table decorations included heads on platters
and real digits in the finger bowls.
Michelle Hartman’s poetry books, The Lost Journal of my Second Trip to Purgatory from Old Seventy Creek Press & Disenchanted and Disgruntled and Irony and Irreverence, both from Lamar University Press, are available on Amazon. She is the editor of Red River Review. Her spare time is filled with a tiny fairy princess named Kaitlyn.
Perfect!
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