Barbie Que

Deborah S. Rehberg ©

He with precision cuts away and filets

that part of her that caught his eye

Over the years he's prepares for their barbecue.

He sautés the selects in satire and seasons it with cynicism.

She struggles during the whole long drawn out process bewildered at the prospects of being reduced to Veal or a lamb kabob.

He skewers her about her, weight, the children, that she's smart yet so stupid

Money, sex--trying to make an impeachment to the core of her inner most being.

She's quiet now she watches from a distance. He doesn't seem to notice

She's like the wolf caught in the trap that gnawed away her own appendage

Looking back at the part of her that once pranced lovely, now cannibalized.

But she knows a paw's not too high of price to pay to keep on living.

He raises his weapon "Come over here."

His strength foolishly spent now apparent his own fragility.

She does not raise her voice nor bare her teeth.

Yet she knows her jaws can snap him.

"How would you like your meat cooked?"

(The cycle continues)

And she counters, "Had you forgotten I've turned vegetarian?"