yvette smith (LONDON)

My love is a potato

Crude with piggy black eyes

Slit in the side and soiled by sod


My love is the rough handled skin

That follows the relentless storm

The tempestous waves

That raged and rent its first soft form

My love is a potato

The first and almost last known outcast

In a jungle school

His head was wedged like a spud

Mounted on a sinew of neck and bristle

His face sunken into flesh

His eyes two dark slits of piggy black lust

That lit up like a fool

I left him standing at the gate, after school!


My love is a potato after the mash and the kill

And the spill of the innocent milk of the martyr

The final slab of the butter


My love is a potato

Not quite a heart

Battered down

And worn

But after the storm

A sweetness and softening

And love is born!

yvette smith march 09