Entremets Sans Subtleties by Pixie Bruner

We shall dine upon the bones,
the flesh, the fruits,
cherish even the gristle.
It shall be a pleasant meal.
The fruit of the womb
served cherubically dressed
and saffron, juniper and ginger
hide all unpleasant tastes of game notes.
There shall be rich red blood turned to wine
to wash down the unsavory gristle
we are too polite to spit out
on the finest linen napkins- always ivory.
We swallow the menus offerings.
The Invited guests. Fearful of indictment.
else we wind up upon the table—
dressed as a suckling pig
with a jousting scene of capons
and a headdress of swan feathers next fete.
We deny that the hosts are ghouls.
We categorically deny that we are doing.
We tell the host they are beautiful and always correct.
They are genius and handsome, oh so very clever.
We admire the cut of the suit, the drape of their dress,
looking them graciously in the eye.
We deny deny deny and deny
in the hope we leave the dinner alive.
We chew and chew, our mouths closed.
We place the silverware back just-so.
We smile and smile and compliment
every course, the table settings, the ghouls hospitality
And pray for the dessert course to be digested
it means just another meal we survived.

Pixie Bruner (HWA/SFPA) is a writer, editor, and cancer survivor. She is the 2025 Rhysling Award Chair. She lives in Atlanta, GA, with her doppelgänger. Her words are in the Elgin-nominated “The Body As Haunted” (Authortunities Press), Space & Time Magazine, Weird Fiction Quarterly, and many more.