Gilda, The Serial Kitchen Killer, Leila Samarrai


I’m Gilda!
I get up!
I glitter!
I cook.

 Lunch lounges under laughing chandeliers.
They smile back and the knife blades beam in luminescent light.
They illuminate my garish gilded plates.
Light light everywhere!
Plates talk as they hop and bounce
Feed us!
Eat us!
Kill us!
Polish, polish me, my Nazi!
Dinner time!
Play the macabre music!
GOLD GOLD EVERYWHERE.

But among the plates, shiny, gold and pink, one cracks.
The gold was gutted by my knife!
It was the unsharpened one that spoke to me…

Feed us!
Eat us!
Kill us!

Suddenly the fridge is jumping for joy.
And then there’s the vampiric meat I cut up last summer.
Dance! Hop Hop! Dance!
It’s the one I cut up last summer
She looks at me vindictively, and shouts:
YOU KILLED MY MOTHER!
My knife quivers above the sparkling sink water
Come out deep fish
Octopus, crabs, snails!
The chicken wants his gizzard back
COME OWWWWWWT!
(finger points down in swirling dirty dish water)

Serial killer of meat and crab
Blond-haired metonymy of death
The lights die. All is dark.
I scream at the mutiny.
One by one they attack.
With a meat cleaver
(Clean us, clean us, you dirty bird! Sing!)
Dead zombie guests assault me, shuffling forth.
Vindictively, fork stabs the pork
Once more into the battle of the Green Fork!
“I can’t stand the pain! ”
“Wait for MEEEEEE! ”
RED RED EVERYWHERE. DRIPPING.

Tomorrow the police will find me in a glass jar.
I’ll just be two golden eyes and a rotten iris…
Swimming around, contained and happy.
My kitchen will finally be clean!

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