Last Supper

Do you get squeamish? I hope your not eating your tea.


Oblivious to fate,
they gorge on carrots
and thirst quenching fruit,
before being thrust
into the leopard’s den.

In a dark niche, the predator
  lurks
          stirs
as prey scuttles near.
Eyes wide he watches,
begins to stalk.
Excited,
         tail trembling
                       he pounces …

Shaping a smile,
his mouth is loaded
          as legs wriggle
          guts ooze
a cricket feast
for my leopard gecko.

 

© capricorn 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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