Cardiff-based performance poet and scriptwriter. Grand Finalist, Farrago UK Slam 2010 Grand Finalist, BBC Radio 4 UK Poetry Slam, 2009 Runner-up John Tripp Award for the Spoken Word, 2004 Publications inc. The Allotment (Stride)
THE CHEESE FONDUE We were finished. We had nothing left. Except what we had lost Into the cauldron, What had fallen away Into cheese. We sipped Riesling through a straw, while the gallumch of fondue bubbled between us. You dipped your forked metal tongue down into the waves, lanced a chunk of cheesy bread - it dripped with dairy and kirsch. I stabbed a hunk of cheese-soaked beef with my bayonet blade, lifted it up and ripped it apart, savouring the cheesiness, the distilled essence of cheese that slipped down my throat. You found a well-cheesed potato wedge, I hooked a cheese sprout like a rainbow trout. It flipped on my tongue and drowned. You pulled out a whole cheese courgette and swallowed it, oil-lipped, in one. We delved deeper and deeper into cheese. I dug up a cheese-roasted chicken. You got a leg of cheese-glazed lamb. I gripped my archaeologist’s trowel and discovered quails stuffed with sage and saffron and cheese. You zipped Up your wet-suit and dived in, emerged clutching oysters - open mouths that dribbled cheese onto the shag. I looked at you then, as you stood there in rubber, cheese-faced, Cheese-hipped, And told you that I couldn’t take any more. “No blame. No blame. It’s just that, after a while, it all tastes the same.”
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