A Banquet of Remains

I am the orange peel
Skinned off with diligence
I am the exposed skin on a groomed poodle
I am the peach that rolled out of sight
The overripe fig not fit for fertility
The one grape squashed by the weight of others
Unsuitable for consumption
I am the berry that the monkey touched
I am the claws of that lobster king
Showcasing lost might as a symbol of power
Like the hunted tiger’s skin
Or the royal stag’s head
Dead yet paying obeisance to those it serves at the table
I am the leaves off the grape vine
Shrivelling before due time
I am the platter in turquoise blue
The empty sherry bottle
Ready to crash
I am the crumpled muslin sheet
Holding it all together
A banquet of remains
Hiding in plain sight