Wednesday 11 April 2007

Apple pie

slowly,
he waves his treaty

one apple at a time

pie offered easily
needs no rhythm nor rhyme

name after name
(and counting)
they eat it all

expecting much of his bakery

but no one sees the cake crumble
before the stuffing falls

leaving them pulp
of putrid venom

(and me, a chance to announce: )

a flying pie wake-up call



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