by Brett Rutherford
Alice, a vulture stuffed
with bread and celery,
onion and pomegranate,
is still a vulture,
tough as old moccasins.
We tried our best.
with bread and celery,
onion and pomegranate,
is still a vulture,
tough as old moccasins.
We tried our best.
Vera, the cornucopia you sent
erupted snakes,
okra, and cauliflower.
Try as I might,
no recipe came to mind
so I placed most of it
in my guests' coat-pockets.
Philippe, that loaf you brought
looked tasty brown
until it bled purple,
a slime-mold fuligo
from a dead tree's base.
Well, it's the thought that counts.
Rose, the bouquet you brought
must have cost someone
a pretty penny.
I saw it just yesterday
in the nearby cemetery.
For me? You shouldn't have.
Next year, pot luck, chez vous.
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