The 'Two Line Luncheon Meat Haiku'

of

Dermot Bowen.

Inspired by the Liverpool poet Spike Hawkins, and his signature poem from the sixties:

"Pig sit still in the strainer, Pig sit still in the strainer.

I must have my pig tea"

 

Each cylinder contains blended particles from a porcine multitude.

Can without corners, once opened the pink inside slips out placenta like

 

Three-in-one pig tool it pulls tusks, clips tails, castrates.

The swineherd's best friend, I salivate now.

 

Lusting for the porky tripe.

Where is the opener?

 

Round pink pig-loaf, rubbery quivering mush.

Do your snouts still smell?

 

Camera pans loaf, the light sparkling on lipid arteries from long dusty rides.

Glistening jelly and salad cream for savoury custard.

 

 

She quivers when she sees pink, shimmering slivers.

Juicy, moist and pink lunch gave them sapphic urges

 

Spongy protein loaf of twentieth century's curse to future eras

I slice it too thick, and then I slice it again.

 

Open the can and release the pink tower

While lard frolics with my blood, I'm in nirvana.