winter picnic

her pulled pork fell from the invited heights

left with opened toed sandals and scuffed shoes

squeezed lemons aided in already dyed soiled duds

as she now hunkers alone, toasts her winter picnic blues

a napkin painted in scarlet lipstick and barbeque sauce

scurries in a hurry across polished hardwood floor

the good silver and mother's mother's fine china

hid store bought coleslaw from her daddy's whore

beans sent with brown sugar and spent bacon strips

let off steam as the alabaster crock turns to noon

buns once nestled in a towel from a whickered home

lay buttered, half bit and discarded way too soon

the wine discussed, chilled on a storied window sill

holds the interest of pigeons, the wind and the snow

cheesecake picked late from a closed baker's empty case

holds court in the frig with olives and her eating crow

a daisy embroidered table cloth held for celebrating

folds and crumples the courses into a trashy world

the pulled red replaces the sweetness of a butchered pig

as out into the cold sunshine a winter picnic is hurled

04/30/2023