A BUTCHER'S BEEF (poem)

Recently I was at the bar with my trusty moleskin and pen and there was a woman across the way drinkin' God knows what and annoying everyone around her. There's always one... After observing her for a bit, I created this less-than-flattering backstory. My revenge for having to endure her dragon-like cackles when all I wanted was a little peace. Thus, this is what came out.

A BUTCHER’S BEEF
When she didn't come home
he set out for her.
She was at the bar –
his bar - holding court
four drunks deep.

When he walked in and saw her,
the giggling just inflamed him
more and more. All he kept
thinking was did she really
need to swig her beer?
How very unladylike.

He still felt her slap from
hours ago that left his cheek
crimson and tingly with canaries
flying ‘round his cranium.

He still tasted the blood
in his mouth and as he approached
her, he went numb, smelled her
fear as his butcher’s grip took hold.

When he grabbed her arm
one of the barflies puffed
out his chest and was soon
scrounging for his teeth.
“You...” he kept repeating
to her over and over.

They took it outside and
as she lit her cigarette
to calm her nerves, she
looked for the strength to
tell him that there was
a little one cooking
in that unladylike belly.