A hungry heron and lunch that lands you in a pickle!
by Craig Brown
You are back
perched in the tall fir
a grey cut-out. Quite still
vigilant as ever.
Was it you, or your sister
that stole in
with an early morning visit?
You barely managed to take off.
Only snails and frogs
are left in the pond.
Nothing like the feast
that you gorged on last summer.
Today’s Lunch, July 18th
by Daniel Searle
I ask you, pick a lily
And place it on my grave
For I pickled my innards
With the sandwich that I made.
My liver lies in vinegar
Preserved with functions failed.
In rivers of formaldehyde
Destroyed without decay.
I am not a severed cow!
Suspended in the Tate:
I am the remnants of a man
The crumbs left on the plate;
The soldier in the film ‘The Rock’
With Connery and Cage,
Hapless, trapped, the glass gets smashed,
The gasses melt his face.
At first a pickle was in me
Then our roles were exchanged.
I felt the wrong end of the tang.
In spirit I remain.
My days may now have been and gone
But non, je ne vinaigrette rien.
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