Friday 7 September 2018
All Hail to the Raspberry Pip
All hail to the raspberry pip, survivor, desperate to
stick between the teeth; wedge itself like a pebble in
a tyre-tread; it refuses to be dissolved or shrunk,
it hunkers down, cornered, resisting a poking with
your finger-nail, and even the tooth-pick can fail.
All hail to the raspberry pip, hiding in its scarlet globule,
migrating into your mouth, a bird’s beak, a fox’s jaw,
disguised as softness, waiting to be munched, ready
for the peristalsis, the long slide through.
All hail to the raspberry pip, heading for a spot of dirt, a
railway siding, where it becomes a bramble, winding and
arching its thorny way, obstreperous enough to delay
your longing for the fruit until it has