Up there
In the dressed branches,
A Leopardess wears the blood of a beast,
Like a floozy wears her rouge
In a classy, drunken state.
She tires.
Like a Queen after a Christmas feast,
Her chair creaks,
And her belt goes slack,
Sighing to muster the effort,
To fit in a night cap.
Hungry as the ragged beggar,
Neck as stiff as a hunch,
My burning eyes wait,
To gain a leg, a horn
Or whatever slips off the plate.
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