By Victoria Reed
With a gooey apologetic smile, you gesture to
The duplicitous feast you have laid out for me.
It seems to stretch for an age
On appreciable wooded ash
With so many delectable treats
You entice me first. Upon first glance,
They are fruits belonging to
Queen Mab’s court
A collection of vegetables, minerals
Wines and dines
All plump, preening and
Overflowing.
But upon closer consideration
The honeyed milk of your kindness has grown stale
frothing and curdling into sickly mush
Spilling.
A spittle of sweat
On your brow
All rictus now
You dab and then jab to the feast again.
Preying I won’t see
your cracking shell of promise
This spread delight, now seems to be
a sourly sorry occasion, since
I directly detect the busy buzzing of the flyblown fruits,
The glimpse of putrescent crumbling cheeses,
maggoty eyes of trawl, festering swine and spoiled wine.
Just like Hades
With his offending pomegranates
If I yield, I’d be forced to eat your rotten fruits forever
This is all you offer me
Crummy crumbles of admiration
Fantastic falsehoods and
Feigned love
No more will I gorge on bleeding banquets
I will let them diminish away
Along with your fiction.