Le Consulat de Belgique
His arms were too short
to proceed his belly.
His desk, wooden,
and soaked in the aroma
of spiced rum. Mahogany,
I think, nearly black as
his moods were often.
The Belgium consulate.
I was his secretary.
for Poetic Bloomings “What’s Your Line” © Misky 2020. Image from WikiCommons CC:00
It's Still Life 