Miss Shlabee's Pores Poem by Michael Witkowski

Miss Shlabee stormed
the weather in her castle
a grandloquent capricious matter
with brigs in turrets and
meandering potluck haste

each tile shone with fear
at the look of lubricious
sponge but alas it shone which
sufficed the grand hag's wishes
for serendipity- in hungry famine

Miss Shlabee nibbled at
her castle tiles -maybe, so her
calculation, her teeth will rasp off
bit of hardness, gold and shine
food was organic matter to Miss

Shlabee which she despised
but prided herself of being the
first human robot on the rocky
moon earth- lick the spurious metal
off shiny surfaces was her adage-

for nuptials she wore a coating
of pure gold warm in cold
and icy in heat- festive luxury
she sweated with all her pores-
salty and chocolate sweet