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A Phantom Banquet by Stewart Stafford
Forego the seminal salad,
Lest it retraces your lips,
As ambushing vomitus with,
Greasy, peccant aftertaste.
It is not willing regurgitation,
For the young's sustenance,
But spitting of venom, I say,
Rendering venting of spleen.
Savour secret ingredients,
All shall emerge in the end,
A reading of the entrails,
And of potted plots afoul.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved
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