Tuesday 22 December 2020

With What Purpose in Mind?


   for Will

 

I get the cheese-grater out of its hiding place

and use it to grate the banana

onto my plate of spaghetti bolognaise.

 

Why would anyone do such a stupid thing?

I ask myself

(rather awkwardly, as it happens).

 

But I am creating a work of art:

the edible and the edible, unpredictably combined

to make the inedible.

 

Art made, I hurl the uncomfortable bowl

against the wall

at the far end of the early morning kitchen,

 

because all art is temporary, like this poem,

which came from nowhere

and goes nowhere.

 

There is a deep satisfaction

in clearing up the meses

one fashions in this odd life,

 

and, like life, 

all traces of my futile endeavour

will soon be beautifully absent.

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