Why should one long for something
supposedly composed of sawdust
or sweepings and bulked up with
excessive breadcrumbs? Coloured
like a tart's lips and typically
when the water in the pot comes to boil
stepping out of her underthings
or worse looking like a condom?
And yet, sometimes passing the butcher’s
I compose a worthy list: eye fillet
And a nice beef roast (special visitors)
And just casually, like childhood, a saveloy
Elizabeth Smither Red Shoes p28
When I was a boy a trip to Christchurch by my adults often ssaw them bringing home a packet of saveloys. In a regular diet of home-killed mutton they were a colourful treat. Anne can’t believe that I still like them. Tasteless things she says. Like Elizabeth Smither, for childhood’s sake, I still enjoy my saveloy.
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