First there was pear, in itself complete…
Until dipped in deep syrup of raw dirty honey
Charged with black seeds of cardamom
Jocular dust of ginger and rank cinnamon
No splitting in this dish, no rotting erotica
No blasphemous analogy, no metaphor for pudenda
Now turn up the jet.
In the hot depths float insulting sultanas
Battening on thickening vanilla elixir
What was once complete is now a mesmerised serf
A foolish fridge-simple fruit to be despised
Eat this complexity and you are perplexed
By its generous promiscuous alteration
It confounds logic.
Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights Reserved