Treasure Island

David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

Raptor Xmas


Before pinning down
Their breakfast treat,
Raptors always
Wash their feet;
Mankind 's best
When served still young,
Stuffed into a sugar bun;
Especially when reared on corn;
A toothsome treat: the just new born,
Roasted on a charcol grill,
Having just been freshly killed.

This year the table was abuzz
How Xmas almost wasn't was;
A clever raptor scientist
Had said a comet had just missed;
Only insects would have survived
So this Einstein theorized;
A nasty hiss went round the table;
Such a gruesome ill-timed fable.

Submitted: Friday, January 18, 2013
Edited: Friday, January 18, 2013
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