Kitchen Massacre
The roasting Sun
dances on sharpened steel
blades slicing delicate skins.
Blood-red stains spread
as flesh is cut open
and exposed.
Innocent fruits
flung from the wooden slab
into oily flames
as hot as hell.
Silent screams sizzle while
salt is added to the wounds.
Identical, Italian flour soldiers,
cut and moulded perfectly,
are ready to be sacrificed.
Colliding in burning waves
they drown.
In a terracotta pot,
perfumed leaves tremble
and fear their fate.
Ripped from succulent stalks.
An instant death.
Cool, calm ceramic,
on pure white linen -
the final resting place.
Buried under grated, crumbling yellow earth
and tiny, cracked, black fiery rocks.
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