VENAL HOT WINGS
Scott A. Russell
Her plump
Tongue rasps oily
Flesh from steaming bones
And her dexterous digits
Like a child’s
Pile them neatly
On a second plastic plate.
Six little lives
Are sucked clean between her lips
In the name of decadence,
Her eyes fixed on mine,
Her legs lascivious and
Insinuating beneath the table
(love laughs, a mouthful of fire
love smiles, lipsticky with gore)