Feast

Laid bare,

next to glistening candelabras,

bound naked atop shining silver,

served on a platter.

Placed next to glinting cutlery,

and fine wine to wash her down with.

A table set for a king.

Bruised meat stripped from live flesh,

making her his meal.

A rare, endangered selection;

the cook’s long labour.

Salivating, he licked slick lips

his self restraint long gone, out of control,

ready to over indulge.

Dog chewed morsels,

broken down to mere scraps and bare bones.

Left to fester, simmer, stew.

He basked in her exposure,

how she writhed and recoiled,

her wet eyes, salt seasoned,

met by his bloated face 

and sweat flushed cheeks.

A carnivorous candle lit scene:

she was his gourmet meal,

his cheapened source of entertainment, 

his personal motion picture, 

his shameful jester

caught unknowingly on tape. Live.

Knowing he could do whatever he wanted,

he tore shredded meat off the bone,

feasted, swallowed her whole.

Long after her protests fell silent,

he ate until he had his fill.