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home Arts & Literature, Byline POET’S CORNER

POET’S CORNER

By Cormac McCarthy   Posted in Arts & Literature Byline
Posted on November 11, 2021November 11, 2021

This week on Poet’s corner I have decided to share a poem by Cormac McCarthy, our Express Film & TV Editor. The poem is about delicatessens and will definitely make you hungry. 

 

I strolled through the city,

Craving something with girth.

Till I came to shop,

And I laughed with such mirth.

My stomach was rumbling,

A roar unheard,

But my conscience was quelled,

My angst just assured. 

“centra” the sign said,

 So indeed I rushed in

 Ignoring the stench

 And Ignoring the din.

  I came to the altar

  The hallowed deli.

  “This”, I cried aloud,

  “Shall fill my void belly”.

  There was a queue naturally,

  For the girl behind the counter.

  Had we met another time

  I would have liked to mount her.

  The bastards in front 

  Rendered me forlorn;

  Deliberating over

  Getting chives or sweet corn.

  Finally my turn  did come

  My spirits did lift.

  But the poor girl was tired

  From an eight hour shift

  What did I desire?

  The same as the rest.

  A sumptuous bread roll,

  Filled with a crisp chicken breast.

  She looked at me

  And began to mutter 

  I replied “I beg your pardon”

  -“Mayo or butter?!”

  -It was abundantly clear

  -From this point on

  -That this chicken roll

  -Would be all wrong 

  -The girl had no passion for the art

  -Of preparing this pleasure

  -To her ‘‘twas a job 

  -But to me it was a treasure.

  -So she handed it to me;

  -Halved in white paper.

  -I took it with caution 

  -And said “ see you later”

  -Walking to the  till

  – Checking up on the price 

  – Four euros fifty 

  – It had better be nice

  – So I took this sandwich 

  – Stripped the wrapping with haste

  – And I sunk my teeth with a grin

  – To ascertain the taste 

  – But no grin came to me

  – I was stunned, in a daze

  – That cow of a girl

  – Had but in mayonnaise 

  – That poison nay filth

  – hat passes for spread!

I swear to you my dear

I wished I was dead.

For then I would not have

That sickly slime on my tongue

The anger it burned,

The pain it stung.

Thinking back to the server

Who had composed this swill,

With no effort put in,

Just time to kill

“The centra,” I said to myself: 

“Had no pride nor place

Perhaps next time

I’ll try the deli in mace.

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