Al Fresco

Al Fresco

A Poem by April Child

The pleasing sound of

cutlery clink chink on plates.

Undulating voices spring

spirals of cheerful chatter.  

We smile, swallow and chew

until purple prandial fog

descends us into

serene satiety.

Without warning

an almighty blast

explodes in our ears.

Confusing in its incongruity

We freeze, eyes wide

until the realisation

I’ve been shot by a fellow diner

at such close range the bullet

passed straight through me and

into the person at my side.

There’s no pain

just the ringing in my ears 


it wakes me up and 

I realise it was just a fart.

© 2014 April Child

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Two words. Ending. Hilarious. Your head is an odd, odd, place. Who'm I to say that, though. Arguably, my head is probably a vast, bottomless pit full of the weirdest, most unmentionable things. Nice poem, as always.

Posted 7 Years Ago

OH God that was great, love the twist at the ending… you know I once had a dream I was shot in the chest and I woke up I was having a muscle pain in my chest.

Posted 8 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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2 Reviews
Added on April 21, 2014
Last Updated on April 21, 2014


April Child
April Child

United Kingdom

I love words and I like to write poems. Sometimes words just come and I don't know where from but I write them down anyway. There's something very powerful in the written word. It shows you where y.. more..