The idea for this little poem was watching "Strictly" and wondering what would happen if they had an argument before they danced. 
MURDER ON THE DANCE FLOOR
He was lying on the dance floor
dead as dead could be
No one, but no one
makes a fool of me
He had the nerve to tell me
that he'd found someone new
told me I was in the past
Inside my temper grew
I caught him in a sucker punch
knocked him off his feet
then I put the boot in
It really felt so sweet
I took off my five inch heel
and hit him on the head
I left him in a pool of blood
Totally, Fucking, Dead.
Dora Wright
2017/3