dirty haiku

madame,
may we speak?

i watched you gather your robe.

a hawk's screech
locked eyes.
 
Well, this is more or less influenced by a 'not really Haiku', that Ezra Pound once wrote, but since there is no other thread on which I can think to post this little piece of non-haiku... here it goes:

The Murder of Ms. January Kitchen
Saffron weeps on tresses of black truffle;
The sow devours his prize.
 
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