swift pulse thrums, anticipatory, beneath
the breast of this connoisseur, hands folded upon the
table, candlelight arcing along his skin.
he studies his dish with a leisurely eye: the skin
of his latest delicacy; its firm flesh, the
scent of spice and something sweet beneath.
lifting his fork, sinking silver tines beneath
the first layer of flesh, he takes the
first bite: pleasure pinkens his smooth skin.
beauty may be shallow, he knows,
but true human goodness lies beneath the skin.