Think Again

so you want to poach me

turn my guts runny

on the burn of your well blown

hot air

crack my shell and

drizzle my acquiescence

over the callous crusts

of your self-satisfaction?

I decline, sir

your nauseating offer

despite mottled past

I exude no sulfurous odors

and my shell is impervious

to narcissistic fumblings

 

you think you can peel me away

denude my autonomy

as you bake puffed up

pastries

decorated with the fruits

of others’ labors

while you fancy yourself

a suave modern day Khan?

 

I am fruit

no more than fowl

and I hear the four and twenty

blackbirds singing

lo! to your base perfidy

 

you have conjured yourself king

bishop and knave

manipulating pawns

in your checkered rivalry

imagine me

accommodating accoutrement

on your phantom battlefield

 

I have fought for my place

stomach no puppet master

win your twisted game

as I deign not

to offer a response

 

Check and Mate