Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Tea Ceremony

The killer takes his tea with honey;
just a drip
on the tip
of a truck stop girl's tongue.
Salty   bitter   sour   sweet;
he hates to eat and run.

Seven times he rang her,
then cut crescent her bowl belly moon;
scooped the sun from her skull -  he'd smoke . . .
but that would be rude.
She'd been a lovely host,
blue in a burning room.

She'll make a lovely ghost
inside him,
consumed.

Inspired by Rommy's Japanese Tea Ceremony prompt (believe it or not) at Real Toads.  Happy Birthday, Rommy!

13 comments:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Whoa! from a tea prompt to a serial killer......and written so well. Am especially struck by the scooping of sunshine from her skull, and the crescent bowl belly moon.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Gosh MZ this is both eerie and beautiful :D just perfect!

De said...

Whew. This leaves me breathless. I loved "Hannibal" (the TV series) for awhile, and this reminds me so much of how the lead guy would poeticize Hannibal's way of doing things. So gruesomely gorgeous. Seriously. That is a talent all its own.

brudberg said...

To write so beautifully about a blood-thirsty serial killer is hard.. and the metaphoric way of his act made it even worse than if you had splashed the poem with blood and gore.

Ellecee said...

Oh my goodness, this was a shock,,,but so well done,,,

thistle wrists said...

Hot damn, baby. This drips, flips, and oozes. More of this, please!

Kerry O'Connor said...

This certainly shows the darker side of tea ceremonies, and a worse exploitation of those who serve.

Fireblossom said...

Jesus Christ, MZ. "The killer awoke before dawn...he put his boots on..."

Rommy said...

Hannibal Lector has competition for being the most refined serial killer out there. Gorgeous and gruesome - I like it!

Edward said...

Gives me the best kind of butterflies ... center warm as if a bunting cottage pie ... fresh popped wood stove with a pipe top in an archway made of stone ... we looked on southbound as Loki might from Heaven who were hanging on tight to the door behind him, the night is always for the young folks, so let's tickle belly the stars and tender more feet ... for these kinds of hungers need ritual to enjoy what they'll eat ...

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Eee-yow! So silkenly creepy. All wonderful, and I particularly love the last 5 lines.

Outlawyer said...

Yikes-- really well done but well, you know-- terrific. k.

Gemma Wiseman said...

Gory metaphors and utterly fascinating. Far more refreshing than mere basic blood and guts.