tea

does she purpose
what he sees
can she know
his blistered knees

everyday chores
that started wars
made men babies
and fattened whores

when ivory curves on red
story lines of nothing said
leans her gently over bed
places pillow under head
pistol dripping molten lead
killing softly till they're dead

feasting maggots
on unnamed flesh
writhing through mazes
of mold & mesh

taking advantage
of youth & beauty
blowing loads
under no-one's scrutiny

justified inside
by shells & shrapnel suicide
he merely seeks a place to hide
what's wrong with that he lies, she lies
and who gives a fuck besides, denies
groans & moans then screams & cries
goes on for years, seems to hypnotize

decades fading
and drying leather
forgetting faces
but following weather

she looks forward
and sees them run
skipping through fields
under summer sun

hardly remembers
the men on ships
can't seem to fathom
those ivory hips

doesn't recall
the smells or the tastes
were there really so many
was it satin or lace

dreams and shadows
mixing with pills
blankets on memories
leaving some chills

but in all their eyes
if she focuses real steady
some silhouettes will form
"grandma, can you hear me...your tea is ready"

© s&cp scotch & cherry pie, 2010. All rights reserved.