do you think it screams?
Do you think it dreams
of being back in the fridge
on the ridge
just before
the door?
I adore
the taste as it meltsthrough tightened belts
and honeycombed holes
Salty, naughty,
salinating our souls.
Sometimes I have it in rolls.
And when it drips
like a golden shower its power
draws me
to mop up the bits.
Some say it’ll give me a heart attack,
knifed to the edges of a crackers crack.
Like yellow pornknifed to the edges of a crackers crack.
on sweetcorn
or an embarrassing rash
in mash.