Smiles of the Bacon

Humiliated by the feast the wolf retreats. Amber paw prints slice through the glass between starvation and pride. Beads of moonlight like scurrying ants steal for themselves what we were too proud to eat.

We think we still have the cotillion. The belaboured gowns wasted on one night of thoughtless favor. Giving what can't be given back. Reaping girls into women with blunt machetes. Finding their future in fallen fruit.

Riding the frogs in stiff stirrups. Her hips artichokes. Waiting to be peeled. Her breasts homemade meatloaves. Naked without their mashed potatoes.

Her Ass in the clouds. Her head in their crotches.

Ready to swallow.

All fairy tales preempted. All pieces of glass stubbornly hanging onto the window.

More lard on the inferno. To caramelize the myopia. More mints on the pillow. To show how blind I am.