First Contact
I was a freshman at wellington and wise
when a sure footed poet pulled out her knife
my head was split open and locks spread foursquare
my flesh cut to servings and tongue sliced de jour
the high poetess then clawed out my heart
before she devoured me bite after bite
the freshman departed, the poet refrained
with a big wet smile from verse to verse
Copyright © Ralph Mason | Year Posted 2013
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