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.
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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love that pickle, Chloe, and the poem. Try mine - Flies Flies Flies - Adeline