Just an old prose poem
harmless_little_f***
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Fishcakes for Christmas
I put the fishcake in the oven, had my grandmother read the packet and pressed start. The thing began to spin, and cook, and spin, and cook. I licked my lips. My eyes were transfixed and oblivious to the howling laughter of my family’s festive preparations. I was an impatient child. My Christmas was convenience-packed and instant.
I’d have flogged ten turkeys for a fishcake, I can tell you. Now that’s a Christmas pudding! Breadcrumbed, deep-salted, I hot for its flesh in my chops. I’d have had two piled up. My teeth would have sunk into those puff-pillows like children plunging spades in snow, white-freckled and smirking. My family would’ve chomped on their turkeys, silently, in that old no-gifts-before-lunch tradition only they understood. But here’s a gift instead of a dry, white bird: a sweet bag – orange, breaded and bulk-packed with the bauble of the English coast, cod.
I put the fishcake in the oven, had my grandmother read the packet and pressed start. The thing began to spin, and cook, and spin, and cook. I licked my lips. My eyes were transfixed and oblivious to the howling laughter of my family’s festive preparations. I was an impatient child. My Christmas was convenience-packed and instant.
I’d have flogged ten turkeys for a fishcake, I can tell you. Now that’s a Christmas pudding! Breadcrumbed, deep-salted, I hot for its flesh in my chops. I’d have had two piled up. My teeth would have sunk into those puff-pillows like children plunging spades in snow, white-freckled and smirking. My family would’ve chomped on their turkeys, silently, in that old no-gifts-before-lunch tradition only they understood. But here’s a gift instead of a dry, white bird: a sweet bag – orange, breaded and bulk-packed with the bauble of the English coast, cod.
'We're learning songs for baby Jesus' birthday. His mum and dad were Merry and Joseph. He had a bed made of clay and the three kings bought him Gold, Frankenstein and Merv as presents.'
- the great Sir Leo Harrison
- the great Sir Leo Harrison
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- the great Sir Leo Harrison
yeah, welcome to the poetry section.
I like that one.