~

the things we taste ( etsat ew sgniht eht )

…

rain on the tingles
of an outstretched tongue

sweet saharan sand
if she pisses from the south

gloopy spoons of custard
straight from the can

frozen pizza slices
– but i prefer the cooked ones

twisted tales of thule
& a hymn from hyperborea

spinning in the blizzards
of those polar vortices

mushy peas ‘n’ cheese
on a buttered, toasted crumpet

bluebottles buzzing
in our curried parsnip soup

fresh bull dung
from the paper’s latest headline

vindaflu ‘n’ chips
with a naan to kill y’ nan

tea, if we scribble
in the riddle of the morning

milk, six sugars
plus a tin o’ ginger nuts
…