Heads bent to sky ceiling, shoulders bunched side by side,
Leaving no room for behemoths of monstrous size for eating,
The titan-giants were thus uniquely circumstanced,
Made large and tall with wide bellies
That almost always felt empty,
That no deer, oxen or hare could hope to fill.
Beasts leading themselves to slaughter,
Falling kindly before them, flanks already nicely carved,
They were shown the choicest cuts
Of all the mutton, chicken, pork and beef
They could roast, skewer, spit or boil.
The titans gulped down all the meat.
They’d strip the flesh and lick the scraps,
Belch, then toss the bones carelessly behind them.
But ere long their hunger would grumble with
Stomach pangs renewed. A devoted father
Seconds then thirds their waiter and cook presented.
The titans ate, but nothing proved to sate.
Right Away toiling with Absence, even
Soon Enough failing to arrive on time,
The feasting lasted until At Last appeared in their place,
A little late as usual, but their maker
Saw the mistake he had made.
He picked them up and compressed his hands over them
Shrinking them, or simply making them human: short and slim
With hunger pangs so minuscule as to be manageable
Having decided they would be better off
If they earned their own meals from here on out.
