Two Wrights Make a Wrong

Although blessed with angelic features
Mrs Wright’s little boys were horrid;
breaking their toys and taking delight in
torturing innocent creatures.

They de-buzzed a bumbling bee,
poked holes in the velvet flutter
of a struggling butterfly.
They stripped the wings from
a dozen clumsy crane flies,
ripped their dangling

legs out
from the roots
then stacked the twiglet bodies
like fire-kindling piles
on their windowsills to die.

The little shits
even pilfered a sewing kit
full of needles they had wheedled
from their dear old trusting mamma.

They told their damnable lies:
we’re just darning holes in our socks
but instead
skewered and singed
some dragonflies
over a candle’s shuddering flame.

Happy their victims were dead
they extinguished the light,
wished each other good night
and got back in their nice snug beds
to dream their dreams
of flying machines again.