Poetry

Caviar

“I want to watch the world burn,”
he said, eyes alighting —
the color of newly minted
golden eagles and chardonnay.
Burnished mischief.

“Let the poor eat each other,”
he said, lips simpering–
the taste of sanguine blood
on a white hospital gown.
Cruel antipathy.

“Humanity, in all its petty indifferences,
blatant ignorances, and misplaced allegiances,
deserves what’s coming,”
he said, heart pounding–
the sound of cosmic
drums of conflict, drums of war.
Incarnated vanquisher.

“My death, my darling,
I would do anything for you,”
she said, sword brandished —
the feel of cunning steel,
keen to find a bosomed home.
Suicide.

Featured image by Jean Philippe JACOB on Unsplash