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The Growling Man

J. Elk-Baptisté

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019

J. Elk-Baptisté

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The Growling Man


It is not a red death,

Cool pink ran a winding course,

Rose doré threads pulled thin

From skein to satisfy her fingers

Nervous and at play.

For your pleasure,

The card read.

And, nothing more.

Deckle-edged, embossed

A creative effort; cryptic.

Intended to nag and worry and

Discarding it

With a dismissive wave,

Nielsen instructed, “Bag it, Latimer—

But there won’t be prints.

What’s to make of the blood?

There’s so much of it

But it’s not that is it?

It’s the color.

She was pretty—but so pink?

Cool pink’s a perfect match

For her shoes, Latimer said.

Nielsen smiled. The feminine eye,

Thought he, and his mother came to

Mind –pale carnations by a door.

She’s a gypsy, Latimer said,

A gypsy and an artist too.

There’s paint on her purse

And there’s the butterfly tat.

I’d say she has the look.

Vegan donut

Some things are meant to be just plain bad

No one should virtue signal by coming up

With healthy versions of tasty, toxic junk food

Should we by way of punishment deny vegan bakers

Anything? No of course not it would be petty of us,

Maybe, though, we should deny them baking soda.

I tried one of their donuts and it consisted of nothing

But an extremely thin, crust of pastry, chocolate icing

And air--no actual donut—cunning creature, the baker.

Thinking of things with holes you could swallow a wasp

Try it on a sunny afternoon when you’re bored

A bee has more curiosity than the average cat

So guard your Coke can and especially at the zoo

Because the place swarms with insects

And they are interested in the little holes and ring pulls

Jesus and The Fig

It will doubtless return to bite her/him on the ass

Not that I’d wish it on a friend but…

We are all familiar with this line of chat aren’t we?


Well, here’s the thing…

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