The two of them lollipopped their toes ready
for battering and deep frying.
They opened their fingers up
one by one like they’d learned to open up
a leg of lamb to butterfly it
on that meat and fish skills course
when the store first opened.
They bagged and weighed the trimmings
properly for disposal and sat themselves
on the meat counter and waited,
murmuring Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall
recipes for braised ox-cheek to each other,
quietly amazed their mouths still worked.
*
Anna Kahn is a member of the Roundhouse Collective and is in her second year as a Barbican Young Poet. She lives in London with two cats and one human. By day she works in tech doing something largely inexplicable. She blogs at scribblingbadger.wordpress.com and tweets at @AnnaCarlaKahn
