Large Lunch

Tips slide on smeared plastic A decision is mulled With a mantra of “Ah” A muscle curls on lips A ritual is completed A summoning has been made A Wizard scribes a spell And stabs a wand into parchment An alchemist perspires in stained robes His spiced feet rolling damp powders While fur-lined arms are coated With primordial makeup Meat is seared A cage is knocked on wet steel An ambiguous fish is baptised In melted fat, flour and malted hops The blind browning beast floats A bubble of batter splatters And forms a drifting island Chunks of slaughtered perennial nightshade Are Launched Splashing in a puff of oil An oversized chrome spoon scrapes A pot of coagulating orange Excess nuggets of crushed haricot Are tapped back to a collective The pot approves with a Plop Plop Plop A dial rotates and clicks Metal rattles and vibrates A creature is drained Cuboids crackle outside of their bath A disc is weighted by their combination And at its curved edge 26 refugees Hide under a starchy canopy The Mage arrives exactly When the platter is placed With Talons pointing down The Thaumaturge pinches green Over a corpse A rough thick dip is Scooped and slung Then, a plump proportion of fleshy pulp Is dropped To bleed on grease The Sorcerer strides And shoulders do not bob The ceramic oval is landed With no noise “Thank you for your patience” “Enjoy your meal” “Ooh can I have some sauce?” “Yeah, what would you like?” “Barbecue sauce, lots of Barbecue sauce.”