'Frowned Sounds'.
helnthomas.bandcamp.com/album/frowned-sounds
In autumn: sundried, road-kill casserole,
Cow-bar culled, magpie inspected, pecked,
Blood marinated potage of pothole,
Maggot-riced, rock salted and flat packed,
Morsels tweezer-peeled from tarmac’s clefts,
With sulphur tufts and rare game braised, I served
A spill of tongues with juicy marrow cracked,
Then Granny Smith’s most vile windfall dessert:
A boozy, worm-holed sludge of apples bruised,
For raisins: drunk wasps and blue bloated flies,
With nutty gravel crumble, clay clods baked;
Poured septic sauce called ‘custard’ on the side.
Three portions later, to my sad surprise,
My favours failed to bring forth your demise.
