Cannibals

The visceral pains were sharp, stinging and stern! She swallowed them, in the bloody biting bitterness. The gory talons of the fat obstetricians hung loose, Ready to clamour for the afterbirth, salivating like hungry female canines. “Think of the baby,” said the stony-hearted, vampire-looking hag; Whose fat mouth dripped blood. Back home, a shrieking owlet flew over her husband’s hut. A strange whirlwind shot through the door, and tore the roof atwain. The news broke: she had gone mortis gestationalis! The evil child had popped out his left leg first, in protest; And had strangled mama with its hands - from inside! It was not about the flat-tyred ambulance. The drunken doctor, Who stored his equipment at Mama Phina’s bar, was not to blame. Neither was it about the theft of sanitisers and lignocaine, Nor was it about the leaking roofs; And the stench all around. It was the craving for sweet blood and tender baby flesh! William Smelly lay snug in his grave, As we lowered the two caskets to their final resting place. One carried a dysfunctional human factory, And the other was empty.