Slice of Pie Glass of Milk

Yet another in my Dorian Gray series.  For Bjorn’s prompt over at dVerse, narrative poetry.

 

Slice of Pie Glass of Milk
“I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

The servant took his long black coat
dotted with shivering bits of rain.
The young man went into his library
and sat down in a green leather chair
after pouring himself some brandy.
He sat with his feet on the grate warming
his cold feet in their black John Lobb boots.
The servant hovered around him until he said tesity,
“Go away. Take yourself away for the rest of the evening.
I will get something from the larder if I am hungry.”
The servant left gratefully.
Clearly his master was in a foul mood.
The young man drank the brandy
in one pull and got up to pour himself another.
How dare she! How dare she go out with another man.
And laugh at him as she told him where she would be.
He stood outside the restaurant
looking at the two of them –
getting wet and cold,
the rain seeping through his coat.
She looked up and he could swear she saw him.
She turned to her companion and laughed.
He waited outside as the two of them went into the house
and he watched and waited until the bedroom light was darkened.
The rest of the house went silent and still.
He let himself into the house through the garden French doors and
quietly he tiptoed up to her bedroom.
It was but a moment’s work to slit both their throats
and then to go out the way he came.
The rain washed away the blood on his hands.
He felt hungry now and went to the larder.
The young man sliced himself a piece of game pie
and that wonderful cognac and apple pie his French chef had baked.
For good measure he poured himself a glass of milk.
He stuffed himself in front of the fire.
He smiled thinly.
Then he poured himself some more brandy.
Never would he gain weight.
Never would he show the effects of the most horrendous murder.
Warm and cozy now, Dorian Gray dozed in front of the fire,
all anger forgotten.

Reeve Carney as Dorian Gra

 

Real Toads Weekend Mini-challenge

For Kerry at Real Toads.  the prompt is based on the last line of William Blake’s Garden of Love.  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/10/micro-poetry-binding-with-briars.html  Twelve lines is the limit to this weekend mini=challenge, any form you wish.  To read the poem by Blake: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45950/the-garden-of-love
For Poets United tomorrow.

Garden of Stars
frozen and tangled
blackberry briars encircle
the sunken grave dug in
silence by the light of stars –
nobody knew her – nobody
cared – the lust that rent her
passed quickly – then rage.
off to find another one
he crept on into the night.
soon another will be planted.
nobody knows them,
nobody cares.

public domain image

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