~by reservation only~

The newest thing in Paris is a meal
which could embarrass you, when the food
is served to diners basking in the nude.
Their clothes and phones left in the lockers, real
food falls between her knockers as you gawk
around the room above the tables; say
Macron and his old lady have soufflet
and lobster bisque, and under glass a hawk
is naked too. The bread dough is arisin’,
kerfuffles with the truffles is surprisin’.
The waiters and the cooks are smilin’ too.
They braisse, saute and roast the horny bison,
and muddle through the cheesecake they’re a slicin’.
The rat runs underneath, Oui! What a view!

Charles (Charlie) Southerland lives on his farm in North-Central Arkansas where he bales hay, mills lumber, hunts and fishes. When he has time, he writes poetry on just about every subject. He is published in Trinacria, The Rotary Dial, First Things, The Road Not Taken and other journals. He has been nominated for a 2016 Pushcart Prize and is a finalist in the 2015 Howard Nemerov Sonnet Contest. He likes to write sonnets, villanelles and sapphics.