I rustled about in the copse of fools:
Why does the Wampeer, glamour aside, yet reign?
Are citizens, too long monovorous, haunted
by the salt tang of the steak plank?
Sporting steel traps like bracelets,
they suck and tear at their own paws.
Also those of their neighbors, wherever the pulse
travels and hovers like a nervous shrew.
Dairy farmers in khaki rompers hurl
aluminium missiles, which detonate
on the streets in white cascade.
The price was not right.
Gretel, shove the old woman in to roast
the afternoon away. Pierce the skin so blood flows
onto the sad dirt. Assuming the guise of fox
and hound and hare, her children kneel to feed.