The Wrath of Hegemony

The dusky doe looked beautiful and exotic    
In the Red, Persian fur coat,    
The sacrificial lamb kept the body warm,    
The fragrance of the French perfume    
From her used bath coat commingled    
With the aroma of the brewing coffee in the kitchen.    
The expecting eyes of the curtains and the lapdogs    
Patrolled the main gate of the castle.    
The glistening cutlery and the utensils    
Gazed confusedly at the empty chairs.    
The bell rang and the Panther arrived    
And the anxious queen ran to engulf him with love.    
The dining table looked ornamented;    
Numerous delicacies were the rarest rubies    
Woven in the thread of the flowing wine.    
The hunger of the knight was satiated;    
Now the amiable host glanced at her lord,    
Signaling her yearning for congenial love.    
   
   
Candles, flowers, satin and incense sticks    
Became the silent spectators as they witnessed    
The erotic love of the Panther and his Juliet.    
But suddenly the lovers’ nest became the battlefield of Actium;    
The victorious victor with his adamantine claws    
Tore the tender skin of the Victorian victim;    
Neither a missing handkerchief,    
Nor a billet-doux procured from her chamber,    
But an old French book on lecherous wives    
Had seemed reason enough to slit the lifeless throat.    
The blood of the dead guided the panther to the bar;    
He drank a glass of red wine to quench his anger.    
As he was leaving the arena, the red eyes spotted a colorless entity;    
It was the maid ant preparing the menu for the next course.    
The smell of the feminine sweat instigated the male wrath;    
And in no time, the fatigued was put to rest    
Amid washed utensils.