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Sport 41: 2013

A sonnet about takeaways

page 121

A sonnet about takeaways

Remove the day spent in the sand, remove the sunburned patch, remove the stubborn knot at the back of the hair, remove the hair you leave behind each time you wash away your trove of sand and sunburnt skin into my bath, remove the beating of the batter for a cake we will not bake, untread the path of footsteps wet and unendearing, or veer, if you prefer, to where I’ll meet you on my sofa, greet you with my fork of mushroom, bend with the remover to remove. Please meet my rice, my peas, my plate! This sonnet version really is a lark! And all it needs to rhyme with to, is you.