Mr. Darcy piñata
The reception was without incident
Until, bobbing through the doorway
Came a piñata the shape of Mr. Darcy
He drifted across to the canapés
Where, dipping occasionally, he melted
the hearts of several younger women
Who thought ‘that is not just a Mr. Darcy piñata’.
For me he will be different; he will change.
So they left their boring clots of boyfriends
For this rugged and frowning effigy.
Laughed coyly over cocktails, suggesting
Weekend breaks, theatre trips and lingerie.
The piñata gave nothing back in dashing fashion.
His narcissism unable to compete with the fact
that he was only a piñata after all.
Unable to accept this turn of events
The girls began to scratch at his casing,
Stealing strips, desperate to create a wound that would
Tie the piñata to them after they had gone.
Force him to phone them at 3am for no reason
Other than to recover something of himself.
That was not going to happen however.
In the end the piñata sank under their blows.
Shiny wrapped sweets skittered across the floor
etched deeply with words like ‘bastard’ and ‘user’.
The young women snatched these and went back to their tables
sucking them for years till their sweetness grew bitter.