Читать книгу Monica's Overcoat of Flesh - Geraldine Clarkson - Страница 17

Come, press down a seat with me

in the clay. Let us start.

See how his table moans

and what a smörgåsbord of bad

is here. Fancy that oil-primed

cracked-crust hog’s back—

salty will, chargrilled—

frilly Sarsaparilla envy, lip-teasingly

spare—rebarbative tongue

pickled. Take a helping of desire’s

sauces con carne; a draught of mead

swirling with beaded ire, and spiked

with St Augustine’s wine of error—

ladle it. Then spoon out half-

mash of acedia, gone cool.

Ennui dripping. Lardy dhal.

Don’t omit soft bread of habit,

nor airy soufflé, omission’s very

self. Have Gorgonzola deceit,

white praline pride on the side.

No holding back now.

Let’s gorge on our grimy

picnic, this pretty potluck

finger food of sin; serve ourselves

and let him pass in peace.