Lying in the Shade
The shade of colors delineate
A taste of odors below her waist.
Chaste hors d'œuvres come before our main plates
To decorate the borders for escape.
I think we'll all have an order,
In its most primal, innate state.
Make it rare, so we can bear
Our putrid, human fate.
Continue putting it out there;
It's life, and it's only fair.
Let's all eat it without a care
Until it soothes our crude fears.
Comments about this poem (Lying in the Shade by Edwin Cordero )
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