Poem: Crescendo

Puffed sleeves at a ball, 
look at them in a cluster,
gathered around in a circle.
Many sets of eyes on the prize, 
the most handsome, waiting.
He sets the mood, dour at times,
not wanting to expend too much,
outreach his hand too far.
She will cut off his ear if she gets 
too close, the knife hidden in between 
her breasts, foiling him with whispers. 
Slow to start, gaining speed,
beginning and middle, it doesn't matter,
the end will be same.
His screams will become louder,
as her mouth opens wider, swallowing half 
of his body, a disappearing act.
The shiny inventions disperse,
turn around and stare with their eyes,
never loving or hating. 
%d bloggers like this: