Your hunger was clear
It was the line of
Your delivery, I feared

Your eyes scanned
And selected one
From a menu
Of one hundred and one

Your need was too much
To make it home
Entering a doorway
You exposed

Wrapping ripped
And pushed roughly back
Just showing enough
For you to attack

Finger shoved in
For a sample taste
Of the pleasure
That lay in wait

You ***** *******
Did you mutter Grace?
Whilst I stared at your
Beautiful contorted face

Fluids mixed
In a cocktail of haste
A curdle of raspberry ripple
We did create

A groan escaped
Followed by a
Belch of contentment
This burning heat
Will need some redemption

Cold and congealing
Thrown at your feet
Another half- eaten take away
Left on the street

Lynn Hamilton
29.03.2015