Art of Cooking
By lenchenelf
Sun, 29 Mar 2009
- 3007 reads
7 comments
Whetstone ground, rasped, in smooth small circles;
You taught us how to hone a sliver of hate to a glint.
Slip point 'twixt gristle and bone as hens' bane;
Soft pressure bares pearlescent sheathed flesh.
We, Tulps' kitchen pupils, table pressed, crane
A view, then You, twist, pull, grey sinews stretched
As silly-string; a nick, amputate at the spur, free.
Now claw and squabble for the prize; ochre scaled
Capons foot, marionette plaything; spoils
For patient attention at the anatomy class.
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Comments
I've come back to this as
I've come back to this as there is something about some of the imagery. It evokes both beauty and ugliness at the same time. An intriguing piece...
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Yes, I can remember helping
Yes, I can remember helping my mum pluck and dress chickens a number of times. Putting one that close to the source builds a healthy respect for it as well, I believe.
I've heard of Hen Bane but wasn't aware it was toxic. Thanks for the heads up. :)
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As Dynamaso rightly says,
Permalink Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
As Dynamaso rightly says, this is an extremely interesting poem, that does evoke mixed emotions. I much admire your choice of vocabulary. You have some lovely 'sounds' in there. A well written piece that I shall come back to from time to time.
Tina
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Used to gut chickens in a
Permalink Submitted by threeleafshamrock on
Used to gut chickens in a chip shop, in my early teens; never looked at a little red hen in the same way since;) I too was unaware of the toxicity of Hen Bane. Nice, unusual piece.
Chris ;)
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