GRANT FRASER

(JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

Tinned


I'm eating you
out of a tin,
vertebrae and everything,

Your Pacific American
days washed over,

Sustenance, poetry,
entry forms,

While I swallow
the last chunk
of discolouration,

Feel a chance
coming on...
Yet encourage
nothing more,

And think
of new word play,
as the next step,

So is it marooned
or macaroon,

The room is already glowering
at the window without me,
no help of mine - whatsover!
it is a fact,

But the thing is to live,
eat, make sure somehow
your nourishment,
will make something of it...

Salmon -
you've jumped inside
my stomach at last!

Submitted: Saturday, April 13, 2013
Edited: Friday, October 04, 2013

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