Meat written by Ricky Hawthorne at



written by: Ricky Hawthorne



Mmm, butter, burning in the pan, a
Melted pool casting waves of promise, that
Nestle in my nose, soon
To be tickling, tingeing, suckling and searing
My piece of meat

This is my favourite cut; it can
Be relied upon to produce a required level of
Satisfaction, especially now, when
I can purchase it so economically

Competition, my precious, has brought you
Cheaper to my kitchen – trim
Lean and tender.  I need not lift a finger unless
It’s to lie you gently to bed and
Watch with glee as you snuggle slowly, basting
In the warm crackling grease, your
Blood coloured complexion, tanning
Under the atonal hum of the gas flame

I slice open the packaging, and that perfect vacuum
That sealed you fresh from the world, exhales.  I delight
Holding your supple flesh between my palpitating hands,
but wait…

…where’s the solidity…the substance.  Vexed
I sling you at the pan stuffing
Slippery fingers into pockets, pouting,
Jangling the extra change sagging and abrasive
Against my thigh; an empty
Echo crying in a napkin

I glower back at the offending
Slice as it contracts slowly toward
The middle of the skillet, Pangea in
Reverse; disturbed I fill the void
With onions and mushrooms to
Share the heat, and yet…

…I am not the Chairman of the Board without reason.

I have a wonderful idea.

Ricky Hawthorne

Ricky Hawthorne

Short listed for the Bridport Poetry Prize 2015
Graduate of Warwick University
Triple honors in Literature, Theater and Film
Ricky Hawthorne

Latest posts by Ricky Hawthorne (see all)