the artful

She sat down to dinner
on a table finely laid
Her son snuck up behind her
And bashed her in the head

The tea caddy platter
Fell with a clatter,
The sugar brown
with gray matter.
But it was soon to transpire
That she did not expire

Wearing a napkin as a smock
He stabbed her with her fork
Till she was holey as toast
Did she at last give up the ghost

He then knifed her
with such fervor
To ensure she was truly dead,
Like a Thanksgiving turkey
Her gibbets fell on the jerky
And left the salad dressed in red.

Followed by a gesture
Of Oedipal measure;
He pulled out all the stops
And began to spoon her lifeless corpse.

The coroner said
in his Mainland drawl,
“Ne’er ‘ave I seen such a sprawl”
“I ‘ave seen brats do their worse,
but up till now dis brat’s wurst!”
“De things he did when ‘e off’d ‘er,
‘Ave you seen a more literal motherforker?”