The Scream of Hearts

The Scream of Hearts
by Nick Gisburne

The queen makes tarts from babies’ hearts
Still succulent from slaughter
She blends their blood with bile and mud
And feeds them to her daughter

The princess eats these tainted meats
And strangles squirming kittens
Each throttled cat is bludgeoned flat
And skinned for winter mittens

The knave, of course, supplies a sauce
Most deadly to the dinner
And playing dice with blinded mice
Impales the lucky winner

The regal king, while pummeling
Two servants maimed at random,
Extracts their eyes, ignores their cries,
And beats them both in tandem

This brutal clash ends with the smash
Of organs, bones and sinews
More victims plead, but as they bleed
The killing spree continues

Still grieving, wives, impaled with knives,
Are whipped and stoned till tender
Their household pets are snared with nets
And puréed in a blender

Each orphan child is chopped and filed
According to their flavour
Such gourmet flesh is cooked while fresh
And served for all to savour

The scream of hearts, of all the arts,
Brings glory to the table
This cruel tea begins at three
Survive it if you’re able