Pizza Heart
Squat ellipsoid of dough.
Yeasty, pummelled, elastic.
You knuckle into it,
it takes the dimpled kneading
of your need,
you twirl it thin and wide, ridiculous dervish.
Into the fire with it.
Delicious.
Starfish Heart
swabs dead cells
from the jungle gym of my ribs
as it clambers about,
fooling doctors and cardiographs.
I wonder why it has five limbs?
Something to do with Fibonacci
and clutching at straws.
And starfish don’t even have hearts.
Celeriac Heart
Sits knobbly in the fridge
with my lungs and ribs.
I don’t know what to do with it.
Peel it, dice it, boil it, mash it,
serenade it with razor strings of mandolin?
It goes off.
It’s binned.
Next time
I’ll search for recipes online.
* Simon Barraclough is the author of the Forward-shortlisted Los Alamos Mon Amour (Salt Publishing, 2008) and the limited edition boxed mini-book, Bonjour Tetris (Penned in the Margins, 2010).