Black Tie Gala Fare

The red raspberry jam was clotting like a scab.

In skin of phyllo dough, the blood was dried
A red as dark and deep as where they stabbed.

Inside the so-styled body, the brie stood by
To salt the sweetness of the seeping scar
The texture of the flaky dough was not
As tenderness of skin. In fact, quite far
From that. You could have told the chef you thought
It much too thick, but then the red might burst
When bit by well-dressed guests like these ones here.

And no one wants to see the best made worst,
Nobody wants to bring up hopes and fears —
The insides on the outsides – the hearts on the sleeves.

Eyes undelighted, I bit and believed.

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You can listen top me read it here https://on.soundcloud.com/jwdSHncIBnWaaM0WN0