Poem 93 – Culinary Treasure

A fish ingot golden not brown
Alongside a portion of chips
Not fries but thickly cut and bagged

Salt sprinkled, paired perfectly with
A bite of vinegar splashed over
All wrapped in sweating paper, warm

Carefully rolled, corners tucked tight
And popped into a plastic bag
To take home quick, this British treasure

I drove the long straight drive to Bristol this evening. On arrival, I felt a portion of fish and chips had been earnt.

© Ben Quant 2022

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