Friday, 19 January 2018

Chip off the new book

 I sniff the pages,
this new book of poetry;
fish and chips!
  Salt and vinegar!
What the?
  it’s a new book.
I read the poems.
They’re OK. Not great,
  but amusing.
Then I turn back to the pages;
chips, and they are going cold,
the greasy poems turn translucent.
Finger lickingly good.

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