Simon Huggins Poems
this spasm of longing
my back feels for you
i would chop it off for you
let spinal fluids spew
my invertebrate form would slide
toward your choking form
and forlornly dying
these extreme asides
shuttle my thoughts like a TGV train
désolée, ma chérie - got it wrong again.
A stunning selection of vegetable matter,
I pile on the bits in my takeway platter.
Squeeze down the lid 'til the coleslaw oozes
out of the sides and right down me troosers.
I reach the tills with my vegetable jail -
All squished together, my payment the bail.
Then klaxons and sirens mean all are a-stopping:
'There's protein beneath your coleslaw topping! '