Death in Newspaper

An almost infinite number of fish and chip shops
Obliterated by the smells, scents and odour
Of dead fish
Waiting their turn, in single files
To fill the hearts and intestines of the living.
Potatoes, killed with their eyes open
Unable to see the cannibals
The eye-eaters of the twentieth century.

Behind the counters stand the killers.
In front the cannibals.
Knives ready. Teeth ready. Money waiting.
To be exchanged for fish and chips.
How cruel!

Pauline Plumar