My nostrils cried gravy.
My skin was pastry
holding a mix of unnamed meat
and gone-off cubed potatoes.
My stomach was a lonely bin.
The devil scoffed hot food
on a windows-shut bus.
© Carl Burkitt 2020
Carl tells tales
My nostrils cried gravy.
My skin was pastry
holding a mix of unnamed meat
and gone-off cubed potatoes.
My stomach was a lonely bin.
The devil scoffed hot food
on a windows-shut bus.
© Carl Burkitt 2020
Carl tells tales 