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a beet poem


beetroot is the vegetable of the year!
followed by
         parsnips!

I always say turnips for parsnips
as I often say Tuesday for Thursday
what can we do?
 
beetroots don’t grow in deserts
but deserts are funny
because British people order them in restaurants
when they don’t pronounce French very well
 
desert / dessert
désert / dessert
 
tonight Nicky cooks a beetroot soup
it is Wednesday the day for beetroot soup
 
        did you know in hard times
        women used beetroot for make-up?
        and burnt matches for eyeliner
 
I pick a cube of beetroot on the bunker
in the bathroom I apply it to my lips
and on my cheeks        
         look!
 
beetroot used to come in cubes
at the canteen at school
it was not a popular starter
the half grapefruit with sugar neither
we only licked the sugar on top
making a face when it felt acidic
 
cut a beetroot in two
apply each bit
on your cheeks
get red regular circles
on your cheeks
go to the disco!
 
you look like
the woman who sees
the sharpness of sorrow
rusting the theatre set
which
eventually
falls
 
dance till the morn!
 
later that Wednesday night
Nicky said
        you still have beetroot
        on your lips 

 

*
 

"What a piece of work is a poet, forever in the here and now and the when and whenever, a poet all of the time whether they try to be or not, whether they’re thinking about reading a book while reading a book, remembering cubed beetroot, obliquely referencing polar bears, or considering the cognitive processes of a Siamese cat eating polystyrene. the male poet and the female poet… is a long poem made of shorter poems, a beautiful murmuration, a writer moving through the world doing this and doing that, noticing everything, finding nothing negligible, seeking connection and always, always making magic." —Tom Jenks

 

 

"Anne-Laure Coxam has an ornithologist’s eye for the human, and a great ear for the ambient language she shapes and detourns. There’s such range in this collection, from heartbreaking short lyrics to satirical prose, tracing the growth, crises and gentle unknotting of a relationship. Everywhere, too, there’s a solidarity with all migrant and precarious beings. It’s all the more moving for the wry humour Coxam finds in her clinical observations of the bird-people, and of her own strategies for living as one of them. A beautiful book, and thoroughly recommended." —Peter Manson

 

"Exciting times! Need advice on unplugging a brexiter? Or how to perform surgery on fixed toxic primary binaries? Still dreaming of a common metaphor? Who you gonna call? Get Anne-Laure Coxam on speed dial. Catch her at the beach recycling language with bits of coconut and razor clam. Move over David Attenborough, tell Hélène Cixous the news!—Here comes Coxam's poetry 'sobbing and [...] trembling regularly and fiercely like an animal who dreams'." —Jane Goldman

the male and the female poet go to the surgery... by Anne-Laure Coxam

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