by Nick Gisburne
The Architect presents me with a book,
A list of every creature I must kill,
And simple yet delicious ways to cook
Their flesh, with just a smattering of skill.
Delighted to be given such a gift,
I skin and serve a screaming treat or two.
His dark approval now assured, I shift
My culinary competence to you.
A roasting spit. Three guesses where it goes.
It’s almost like a chef designed the holes.
No mercy - it offends the Great One’s nose,
So no more pleading. Let me light the coals.
A feast of steaks and slices on a plate.
The Architect already cannot wait.
