It's My Garden Party Poem by Nancy Ames

'The cucumbers are too ripe, lying like
crocodiles on their yellow bellies under
all the green, gossiping leaves, with
worms alive in slime beneath, but birds
accuse me from branches because cats
are waiting in windows full of red setting-
sunlight like Amsterdam hookers expecting
tourists - although the cats, being animals,
are absolutely innocent - so when the guests,
timid as mice, dare to approach the castle
door and knock, it slowly opens silently and
no one is there, nothing but several pools
of liquid lying like pieces of broken mirror
on the floor, undulating, and when the butler
finally does appear, he looks at their throats
and says nothing.'