On the evening of the 22nd, we got ourselves up in an array of
violently-hued finery, besmeared our faces with the evidence
of various ill-treatments and sallied forth into the garden
in order to properly celebrate the occasion of
Mlle. Pandora’s Holy Week of Whelping.
 The extravagant bloodbath tea party was
expertly orchestrated by the wondrous Mme.
who ensorcelled us with her culinary talents
in preparing a most marvellous repast of
chilled brains, extracted eyeballs, white chocolate
lady-finger-sandwiches, cakes and tartelettes galore,
a bleeding heart, and gorgeous poppyseed
birthday cake replete with edible blood-red poppies..
And of course, tea and champagne..
I  bow down before her mightiness, it is true-
and so should you!

Here she is before the fruits of her labours, with Mlle. Pocketmouse.

Behold the gory scrumptiousness!
Note the pointing finger pointing
at the finger sandwiches!
Tremble in awe!

My eye is broken now.
Maybe it’s punishment for flaunting
faux-wounds so brazenly.
Tomorrow is an Ice Cream Social
and Praying Mantis Mating Party
in honor of the Blue Moon,
which is really more pink, I think.
Then I’m going to Texas for a few days-
If anyone wants to go skinny-dipping.
Let me know.
I may return
with my mother’s fiddle.