The Poet Laura Ate

The Poet Laura Ate

Laura was a pleasant girl,
Well mannered and refined,
Until she met a poet
Who said he had not dined
And would she care to have him
For dinner late next week?
She said she would,
But could not wait,
And stuffed him in her cheek.

She hardly bit and barely chewed,
And as she heard him chide her
She swallowed hard, and in one gulp
The poet was inside her.

Now from his stomach cavern
Comes poetry sublime,
And Laura’s host to haunting airs,
Of comedy in rhyme.
Because the poet’s needs are few,
To swindling he’s averse,
So poetry is charged per line,
And sometimes charged perverse.