Poets' Practice Pad

Egads, that's what I thought of immediately, too!
May be viewed, reviewed and rated at: "To liver" 


To liver


O luscious leather, onion smothered
or pickled by fermented hops,
you're all the same to me.

Served with yellow buttered taters,
jaundiced from slow death by hep,
what matters, matters not to me.

As a child I thought
you were some dark-meat fish.
Now I've seen your disloyalty

to men who fish with bottles
trying to drown their sorrows.
Laughing when they see that you can't swim.

But alas, I'm not like them.
I eat liver with one eye watching
the color of my skin.


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