Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

christmas pigs, or the perils of inviting a poem-writer to lunch


what is it about
christmas and food?

the pig in the pot
of the
wild hills of home,
or the pig on a spit
of the
kiribati islands?

here we are civilised settled, though
and call it ham.

but with good friends
and laughter
(and potatoes on the side)

it is a feast;

and more,
it is christmas.


[thank you menaka, bruce and ashan for a feast fit for a north-easterner!]