Midnight Snack

By J. Lynne Moore

A half-cracked quack,
With scalpelled hand;
Cuts through the chest,
To reveal the great expand.

The life drum beating,
Before the wicked quack…
To the rhythm of the beat,
A steaming midnight snack.

With a flick and a glint,
For a moment more it thumps.
Slurpy, slurp…crunch…
Into his mouth it jumps.

Warm blood now dripping,
From the quack’s vile chin…
His hunger stayed for now,
But tomorrow he’ll do it again.

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