The Dinner Party

We are going to the dinner party

I, in my Judy Chicago

You, in your best Judy Garland

We are going to devour.

Tartan Turnip and Seersucker Squid

Venison Ventriloquist

splayed open and rouged

against starched white canvas

unapologetic and on display

dig in.

The Philanderer, three plates down, doused in vermouth

calls to inquire

"what diety on your arm?" (assuming Italian-made)

but you cannot be reached, you are

too busy wondering 

which line you will choose

to hang yourself with tonight

while Trophy Wife is busy making scientific

discoveries

regarding new species of glacial forms 

that have taken residence

in her pink cocktail

across gravy-boat~

Show Stopper stabs at his veal

you raise the stakes

joke that the conservatives ought to foot the bill

since they practically own it, anyway

a choke is chased with a Manhattan, stirred with a

murmur

Apple-Cheeks lifts a leg-o-mutton sleeve,

wipes a disdainful brow;

with arch of frown so furious

you fear her jowls may slide off her face

like buttery chunks

into her lovely, lemming soup

please pass the whipping cream.

meanwhile, in between exchanged glances

with cataract-glazed marble eye of Trout

you notice Trophy Wife's lips

seem to be having trouble forming the word mouth

and 18th-century clergymen are aligning

with iron wall-sconces

to make light of a matter

hemming under the table's skirt

later,

arms are ushered into sleeves

crumbs and loose change retrieved from plush crevices

waiters draw straws to break the wishbone- remark how the fowl was barely touched.

"The Dinner Party" was first published in Attention Span Therapy, Issue 3 Feb-Mar, San Francisco, CA