I Hold The Fork

(Image Source: It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman)

I hold the fork
Tight, am hungry
As I wait for lunch
Coming my way, stepping
On the dark cold marbled floor

Hearing footsteps, I hide
Behind the low veil
To catch you unaware
As I glide across your veins
The red juice satisfying my thirst
Flowing across my incensed lips

Cutlery in place, Time now right
This is going to be a big festive night
Your beats coming closer
The sweet scent waltzing with the wind
I am prepared, I am ready

And

Here you come

Here you come

HERE YOU C
                    O
                    M
                    E.


This Poem is shared with

• The Mag.
• Hyde Park Poetry.