This week’s micro-poetry was, it has to be said, summat of a triumph. That first line is what does it, of course: start strong, they say. Amazingly, the rest then pretty much wrote itself.

Some weeks, you just get lucky, I suppose.


Mantis

Confession: I ate him,
slightly tart, filling
sex, then stomach;
no regrets remain.

Brave bug did his duty,
species preservation;
he died happy,
I made sure of that.

As mother of futures
responsible pleasure,
sacrifice made;
continues our line.

Consumption essential
conception so stressful;
really peckish
his head hit the spot.

Ultimate sacrifice
gone with true feeling,
missed already:
what can I eat now?