The House of Meat

I recently moved back home

and I guess I didn’t realise

How much meat is sliced and diced

Within these blistering walls.

Every day there’s chicken in the fridge

And pork in the freezer

A mint jelly pot lying dormant in the cupboard.

Chicken and veg sitting stupidly on a Sunday, Tuesday and Friday plate,

Chicken noodles rammed down my gizzard

At least thrice fortnightly.

Burgers on a brushed aluminium barbecue,

Flipping and flopping and spanked by a spatula,

Juices ooze and red sizzles.

I’ve had enough of meat,

I’m sick of chicken,

Fed up of pork,

Had enough of beef.

I never did like turkey

So thank Christ that never makes it onto the menu.

Maybe when I move out

I’ll start to live off pasta, rice and veg again

Because here you can’t eat anything

Without a little bit of chicken

Slipping into the mix.

(Sorry, Mum.)