Burnt Tongue, An Epic Poem in Four Parts by Lenitschka

Side note: this is the backstory to one of Jonathan's poems

Part 1

That sip of tea was really hot

I think my tastebuds like it not

But then I want to be polite

So I raise my cup and try I might

To drink yet one more scalding sip

I hesitate, then purse my lips.

I cannot take one more swig, no no

Too bad; all eyes are on me in slow mo

And so I drink as I know I must

My tastebuds, however, have bit the dust.

Part 2

Three days since I sat at Eugene’s table

And still I eat and am not yet able

To savour a steak, a cookie, or ice cream

My favourite foods seem but a dream

For I cannot taste it, none of it

It slips down my throat bit by bit

And I enjoy none, not one swallow.

My belly is full, yet I feel hollow.

Curse you, Eugene, and your scalding tea.

I will avenge what you have done to me.

Part 3

Outside his parlour I do wait,

A scalding beverage will be my bait

I lay outside my enemies door, then hide

He will come when I lure him outside

He hears the alarm and Eugene comes running

Haha, no challenge to my cunning

He finds at his door my cup and saucer

Then picks it up, the silly tosser.

And soon he chokes and falls down sick,

As befits a tea of arsenic.

Part 4

Perhaps I should not have been so proud

Or at least not quite so loud

In my complaints against the dearly departed

My arrest was made before the autopsy started

My lawyer also could make no convincing case

When I cackled evilly in the judge’s face

So now I set in cell block three

Drinking thoroughly lukewarm tea.

And I am happy.