Sweet Poisons


Sweet Poisons

What is that magic
That finds itself amidst cupboards
On evenings too tired to head to the grocer’s
And yet you find something for supper?

Not the perfect ingredients
Or those you’d have laid out perfect
For some recipe tried and true
And sure to be pleasing to the palate?

But you find it – among tins and cans
One egg left, an onion or a yam.
Noodles and a carrot or pepper left
To make something you can enjoy yet.

What is that magic
Then that keeps you leafing through books
In search of clues to mysteries
That will reveal our Life’s truths?

That magic that insists this obsession
Is leading to something in its persistence.
Because surely four years now passed
Is a bit ridiculous…

It is as if I am starving
But only a certain order will do.
Yet supplies were once fresh to me
But ignored, expired, past their due.

Oh hell I am so hungry
But like ignoring it night-early mornings
it passes as you forget it to stay in bed
longer as if drunk or hungover with a lover.

Blood sugar levels drop: we go hazy.
Thinking and logic so messy.
When we wait to be fed the perfect meal
What magic is it that turns up a feast

in our rubbish bin

That we no longer hide shame
About enjoying it?
Sweet poisons.

Sweet poison dependencies like
“It will all work out”
and tricks like the cupboards always filled
with something useful to eat from.

Sweet poisoned memories like
like rotted salmon that makes me choke
His protection, attention, entertainment, support
Dished rich: on a plane-plate we dropped

And broke.

SH 2017