Ode to a Discarded Wedge
By Lucien R. Starchild
My love is a triangle,
cold and asleep.
A fossil of Friday night,
in a box canyon, deep.
The cheese is a puddle,
now firm and profound.
The pepperoni, tiny leather shields
on edible ground.
You with your hot, your “freshly delivered,”
your thumbs that can dial
you miss the true gospel
of the dumpster’s dark trial.
For Splinter, our King,
it’s not turtle lore.
It’s the conquest of cheese
that he truly adores.
A sonnet? A haiku?
Too structured, too tame.
This is a psalm for the greasy, the feral,
the wild, the untamed.
So hail the hard crust!
Praise the congealed, yellow sea!
For a rat’s finest pizza
was never meant to be.
Lucien R. Starchild is an enigmatic poet/writer and cosmic dreamer, weaving tales that blur the line between reality and the surreal. Born under a wandering star, he draws inspiration from forgotten myths, celestial whispers and the hidden magic of everyday life.