[Janet Kenny]

(John, now I can't do one of those. Yours is terrific. Octometer here I come.)



Oh festive board, oh shitty dog, and noisesome cat, my cunning tongue
is slippery, pleased to loudly laugh at spritely beasts, bright arbours hung
with vivid blossoms, heavy dropped on drowsy pates of lazy loons
who idly wait for fragrant plates of pungent broths, clean silver spoons
raised to the blazing golden sun that shyly shines through heavy vines
with prickly caterpillars clung, and loud with stripey insect whines.
Below merlot glows redly through clear glass to swiftly steal slow wits,
so shitty dog and noisesome cat are eager gobblers, the best bits
of gourmet-fare are largely scoffed by furtive beasts, while tipsy fools
oblivious and garrulous, are stupid, as grimalkin drools
and hairy Kaspar’s ancient skills demolish golden poultry roasts
before their sightless eyes, and pies, fruit-laden, crash, as drunken toasts
grow louder as besotted hosts and silly guests and louts carouse,
neglected birthday candles catch rogue winds and burn the fetid house.