The heavy spoon

A Quadrille poem

Her spoon fell with a clang 
bowl rocked in position

chewing the cud
churning suspicion

was she a mad cow?
as he did persist

flaying his throat
wrenching her wrist

the frigid soup
a stone in her belly

the familiar taste
Cream of Machiavelli.

© Darius the Mate

Written for dVerse Poets Pub.

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