EASTER IN THE OVEN Poem by Kiki Dimoula
EASTER IN THE OVEN
The goat kept on bleating hoarsely.
I angrily opened the oven what's all the noise I asked
the guests can hear you.
Your oven's not hot, it bleated
do something otherwise your cruelty
will go hungry and at festive time too.
I put my hand inside. It was true.
The head the legs the neck
the grass the pasture the crags
the slaughter all cold.
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3/10/2026 1:54:19 PM # 1.0.0
