Last Night

We sat down at the table,
with tiny tridents in our fists,
and pierced into the berries.
I watched as they
pumped out blood
around their dying crust,
and encompassing their brethren;
the next victims on my plate.
But not before we
slaughtered bowls of cattle
and Idaho's best,
mixed in with the staples of
my rabbit's diet.
We settled down with
ceramic sculptures
filled with vanilla clouds and
the sweat from pulverized
brazilian beads.
Our intention
was to dive into middle earth,
to shake our emotions.
But time ran away from us
when the matron arrived.