Leftovers

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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: