A Journey To The Centre Of
My Fridge
The door makes a gentle sucking noise as it opens
Revealing the contents within
The lamp flickering with alarm
As it tries to illuminate the gloomy interior
The shelves sparsely populated
With a range of dubious items
Covered and clumsily wrapped
Concealing the substances
Whose origin is now unknown
And the subject of fervent speculation
There’s something grey there at the back
Hiding itself from prying eyes
Crawling down from a mouldy plate
Along the wires to the edge
Attaching itself to the side
There’s a gathering odour
Emanating from that crumbled blob
Which might once have been cheese
It’s building its own dairy culture
As it transforms itself into yoghurt
And drips slowly towards the bottom
And perhaps those grey flakes of something
Used to be fine fresh slices of ham
Bought to go with the salad leaves
Which still crouch there in packets
In the special crisper below
Transmuting themselves into a liquid form
In three different shades of brown
It’s a sorry sight at this time of night
When desperate for nourishment
It offers little hope of satisfaction
And may be a danger to health
So the only practical thing to do
Is to close the door again, sighing gently
And turn elsewhere for comfort
Whilst making a firm resolution
To clean it all out in the morning
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