Feathery white petals
curl about Frieda’s well foliaged chest
nestled in a bed of greens
where Joseph buries his face
and breathes in the scent of roses and lilies
spiced with pepper,
muted by the over powering freshness
of just picked butter lettuce
making him want to eat her.
His garden princess.
His organic bride.
Joseph weeps a salty dressing to his feast,
recites his incantation,
then sits down with a fork.
and devours his dream.
Later, he hollows out her chest
and carves an intricate heart through her flesh.
Flickering light from the candle within
mesmerizes Joseph with the promise
of a partner.
Completing the sorceress’s instructions,
A soft rapping awakens him from a dream
of Frieda fleshed in human form.
Joseph slicks back his hair with his hands
and walks with hope
past Frieda’s still flickering chest
to the door.
Just as his hand reaches the knob
the rapping resumes.
as he opens the door.
Brenda Warren 2012
Thank you to Tess Kincaid of The Mag for inspiration. This piece reads like prose, but I didn’t want to format it that way. It is what it is. I’m hoping Joseph’s dream girl is on the other side of the door.