Treasure Island

Chloe Coleman


Clang of metal on glass,
a tiny trident pierces the green skin.
fat drops run down the weapon,
and splash onto the table,
green on silver.
red lips press
against the green flesh,
possessive and passionate.
A flash of ivory
and all is but sweet memory.

Submitted: Monday, August 26, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, August 27, 2013

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Comments about this poem (Pickle by Chloe Coleman )

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  • Bri Edwards (9/5/2013 12:50:00 AM)

    this made me smile at the end. a nice little tickle-the-pickle poem. thanks for sharing. i can visualize the
    murderous munching. :) i put it in MyPoemList it tasted so good.

    i prefer sweet pickles as in chloe's poem, but if you pickle lovers can stand dill pickles and want another pickle poem, i invite you to indulge in my:
    96 Little Dill Pickles.... [Food; Nature; Imagination; Personal] online 2/10/2013 (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »

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