The Roots of Evil

Picking out parsnips and turnips,
I decide to surprise you with extra beets.
I know how their sweet blood pleases you.

When it drips from your lips,
I realize how ironic it is for a vampire
to be vegan.

You wipe away the juice, and
I pretend not to notice.

You suffered through two root
canals so your hallowed fangs would
not show.

That is how you erased your past.

      But if I
discover a coffin in the cellar,
or find you sleeping while
hanging upside down from the ceiling,

I will regret not buying you
rainbow carrots instead.

about the author
Eric Blanchard’s poetry has been published in numerous literary journals and reviews, both on-line and in print, including Autumn Sky Poetry, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Pudding Magazine, Amarillo Bay, and Poetry Quarterly. He currently lives and writes in Dayton, Ohio.

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