Here’s an example piece from one of our editors that takes on some of the poetry advice in this blog so far, in particular Advice Post number 5. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as he enjoyed making some avocado-based dip and deciding that he wanted to write about it!
I ‘got back out there’ last night.
We swapped numbers and he said
he would cook me Mexican food.
Now I am here, and it is so much less.
Worst is the guacamole, squeezed
from a tube, a glistening green cable,
atomic-bright and toothpaste-thick,
laid on the thick wet mounds
of red and brown with moist rice.
Your guacamole – real guacamole –
was thick, textured, like your jumper
and all the shades of the garden
in the dying days of September.
The avocado was chopped, not minced,
stopping and starting in every shape
like our best conversations
and the lime juice was squeezed fresh,
the tickling, strong citrus flavour that suffers
such a short life on the tongue.
Your guacamole turned brown overnight,
but it was all the better for it.