With apologies to the snake, an animal of which I am deeply fond.


How the Sausage is Made

did you feel powerful
snake
shedding your hated skin
at long-awaited last
bursting from the wreckage
in all your wretched new glory
every muscle a-shiver
under the hideous pattern
you designed in your dreams

in your fantasy you've removed
a mask
to reveal a magician

would that you had remained
behind your curtain
and spared us all the sight
of a fool









Poetry by Lady Courtaire
Read 61 times
Written on 2021-07-09 at 17:10

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Witheringly brilliant, this one :>)
2021-07-16


Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
I am more scared of you than the snake. That means the poem served its purpose well.
2021-07-10


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Ouch! Well done!
2021-07-09