Shine on; the death of a frog prince
Published in blackbox manifold
After he croaks
I skin him
And soak his body
In saki
For a week. Then
I dust him
In salt, pepper,
And the very same
Breadcrumbs left
On the forest floor
By Hansel slash
Gretel. Poor kids,
Now they'll never
Find their way home,
Grow up, fall
In love and have
Their little hearts
Pricked. I start
The fire and slide
A skewer through
His yellow belly.
Splash. Elide. Splash.