Cannibal Diner

I find feral smiles intriguing,
especially the bits and pieces
of meat left sticking between the teeth.

You’ve dribbled a bit.
It’s just a rusty dot
on the front of your shirt
matching a blob
on your napkin.

I’m not the first to watch you eat.
Though I’m certain
I’m one of the few that observe.
Observation leads to fascination.
That’s where many get into trouble.

Fascination may lead to
softening the harsh lines
so clearly delineated by napkin stains,
perhaps even make
one want to trust.

I see where trust would get me.
It’s right there between your teeth.
I intend to be the only one leaving this table.
And I have plenty of floss in my purse

for afterwards.


This poem was inspired by the prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Carpe Jugulum


It Depends

So much depends upon
the ability to screw up royally,
magnificently,
epically,

to lose the fight
which should have easily been won,
to rob Muddville of its joy.

So when you look at your kids
with their scuffed knees,
crossed arms,
and their insistence
that it’s just too much,
you can stand up on sore legs,
and a crooked smile. 


You can honestly say,
“Ouch.”
Then say,
“Next.” 




This poem is inspired by the prompt given at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Red Wheelbarrow Challenge. 


Also By Request

A couple of days ago I posted my recording of a poem based on which one had received the most votes by you lovely folks. While My Parent's One Moment of Whimsy was the clear winner, Faerie Song inspired such a passionate response, I felt as long as I had my microphone out, I ought to record it too. So here it is: