I can’t remember a day
I haven’t thought about the guys
in a documentary whose job it was
to use an axe to chop off human sized lumps
of solidified cooking oil, discarded down sinks,
from the walls of English sewers.
Their skin looked like gravel drowning in gloss paint,
their hair was butter-drenched spaghetti
and they refused to breathe through the nose.
The smaller of the two had a smile
twice the size of the blade in his hand.

© Carl Burkitt 2020