Under the skin, something poisonous.
Like an acid flowing,
as if from the Alien monster.
Watch out for the dribbling!
Often now, there are thoughts that reflect
that menacing countenance.
A wrestling match
(With an Angel, or Devil?)
Tenderness, not likened with love,
Pain’s manifest in the body glove.
Sore to the touch, no matter where.
Could be from cooking to medium rare.
The chef is the spirit
that wallows in sorrow,
and all need to fear it,
’cause it swallows Tomorrow.
Hello, I am Lee Dunn.
Working stiff (retired). Avid reader, dreamer, and searcher.
I write some eclectic poetry, prose, personal stories, and fiction.
Have had work published in the Shelburne Free Press
And Spillwords Press.
I blog on WordPress at https://secret-lifeof.com/
If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram (if you have one) to the e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org