to the system of #HAMERON, paper cuttings and the business of filling stomachs with ill-chewed text until it swills irresponsibly. Tongues are over-indulgent;
words fall like purple figs slipped open showing seedy ventricles, another false fruit leaking juice to feed a family for the night.
Let’s fill the next few seconds with tweets and allegations, puns for the administrators of dining clubs and layers of roasted bodies in lines of bread
entering someone’s face at an angle, a hash up for the lashed up, the elected leader caught sullying organs shaped like ours: #PIGGATE
mantras decanted down from flesh to flesh, dead or alive; a slit throat filled with farce as nutrition shifts from hand to mouth,
the turned-off TV a blacked-out mirror to stare back at our private parts, testifying at the screen gate while we try to hold our necks up,
reluctant to be hung like fruit, to be picked and guzzled on, because truly we don’t remember hearing of a man who enjoyed another as much as satiating himself.
Kate Simpson is a poet from North Yorkshire. She completed her BA in English with Creative Writing at the University of Nottingham and recently finished an MA in Creative Writing at Newcastle University. Her poetry has appeared on Bill Herbert and Andy Jackson’s blog New Boots and Pantisocracies.