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Maitre' D

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Chateau de Moutarde in highbrow lettering. 

Fancy fine place, stately purple neon

serves a royal reputation and a fancy fine price.

 

A penguin with a rat ‘stache and bow tie.

Hand him a Hamilton in the shake and say,

“Near a window.”

 

Indication of class required for all diners.

Mine, cigarette smoke moth closet loaner,

he said, “This should suit your dapper denims.”

 

Lacy white linens for napkins,

china cabinet untouchables

actually eaten with!

 

Huge, half-a-cow leather menus.

“Bring out the whores devours, please.”

“Hors devourers.  Most excellent, monsieur.”

 

Champagne not living up to its name in this light,

let’s attempt to see it from her empty short-side.

Any effervescence?  Certainly not getting any clearer.

 

Waiting so long for the salad without tomatoes

and the soup without croutons

and a finger without a ring. 

 

In vain.

 

Bi-valved velvet box;

back to the bottom of the ocean.

Lint, silt, and sand dollars.  A pearl.

 

A ship sunk before its bill of sail.

“It’s worth the charge times ten in trade,

Just someone wear this ring.”

 

 

 

 

                                                                                    

 

Comments (2)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

I liked the way that this poem ended. It took everything that preceded and made it go from just a description of a particular scene to a much more personal and reflective piece. Nice work.

Joshua Hennen
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

wonderful poem. this is a beautifully depicted scene of yearning with a sincere, heartfelt plea at the end.

Brandon_Hennen
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