Cravings
I once grew old,
And my senses vanished one by one.
The day came
When I could not taste pomegranates,
The next, I could not hear
The wind clonking in the rigging.
The seashore felt like a surging slug.
Pylons lost their fascination.
Take me to the city.
Feed me its electric shadows.
Give me spikes.
Wire my ribcage to a generator.
I am living in a fog,
And my only signposts
Are the craving for the taste of chocolate
And the tang of spicy sausage.
It must be the sun,
The colours in the market place.
The scent of peaches,
The chillies glowing like Christmas lights.
Where sausages are the symbol
Of a rich, ripe old age,
And chocolate is the elixir of youth.
Edward Alport is a teacher and occasional writer who occasionally gets published. When he has nothing better to do he posts snarky micropoems on Twitter as @cross_mouse.