Corned beef
25 years ago, I found in the attic of a small hotel
briefly used as headquarter by British troops after
the war, a tin of bully beef.
I opened the tin, the meat looked lovely and fat
cut a slice tasted as made yesterday.
Later in the evening, I made a stew of potatoes
onions and carrots, added the corned beef, for
refugees, a Polish family of five; yes, the Poles too
had once been refugees, not one would think so
closing their border for other asylum seekers.
As it was their first hot meal since they bedraggled
arrived, they ate well; the next day, over the cornflakes
I was glad to see they were well.
About corned beef, a friend of mine, Alex Skillen, had
been a cook in the army, now he worked at a plant
assembling cars in Ellesmere Port, he liked bully beef
we used to go to the British Lion, play darts and
drink beer, he loved my little books and told people
about it; he was a fan.
Once, he told me he had made the observation that
workers went to strike more under labour than
the Tories, I resisted saying there had been no labour
party since Clement Atlee’s government.
Categories:
skillen, absence, devotion, gothic,
Form: Blank verse
Bully beef
Twenty years after the war
I found in the attic of a small hotel
several cans of corned beef.
since the cans were dark green, I assumed
they had belonged to the German army
not that they were going to demand
the cans back I opened one the meat was
perfect and could be used in a stew.
No one wanted to a taste the meat I ended up
eating the corned beef over several weeks
until I got tired of the bully beef.
Today I bought a tin, it tasted good but had
less fat than I remembered.
I got an email, a friend of mine who also
liked corned beef had died, and it saddened
me much, I used to send him my books
he was working class but well-read and he
liked my books; mind he thought less of me
political stance.
Another friend has, gone not many left
of them now but
I will remember Alex Skillen, my only fan,
with fondness.
Categories:
skillen, anger, best friend, birth,
Form: Blank verse