I Can't Eat Peaches

I Can’t Eat Peaches

it’s too much like a spider sandwich

all furry and sort of wormy

like grey fuzz on a spoiled pumpkin

an emperor mandarin bites back

true as a Confucian adviser

with the cryptography of mouth ulcers

smarmy passionfruit is not my thing

secret globes crack on teeth

after the seduction of ravening flavour

just a hint above the decking eye line

ballerinas curtsey a flippy way

better to taste than floury red delicious

but King Lear in dishevelled silhouette

the wild hoary old orange tree

skins twice as thick as Hadrian’s wall

I can’t get enough of