391 – Infatuation

Poem number 391
.
Infatuation
.
You’re dead but you are beautiful, and worthy of my ardour
As you lie relaxed and tempting on the shelf within my larder
Your skin of palest ivory, so firm yet soft and pure
The line of fat along your back coquettish, shy, demure
You tempt me as no other can, you burrow through my dreams
I’m yours, my love, and yours alone – you’ve captured me, it seems
There’s no escape from destiny, it catches and it binds
I’m ready to surrender to your crackling and your rind
Tomorrow I will cook you, serve you, garnisment on top
You are dead but you are beautiful, my love, my one pork chop.

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