Singapore Chow Mein (Collection Only) by Emily Cooke

At 38 and a half weeks gone,
I had a sudden craving, a –
penchant for the salty, claggy noodles
they sold down the road
at A1 chippy.
 
With no-one around to collect on my behalf,
I grabbed my bag,
waddled myself heroically downhill,
leaning backwards against my own
considerable gravitational pull
and slowly, but very surely
inched my way along.
 
I gasped out my order,
headed back;
hot plastic bag clasped tight in bloated hand.
Hips splitting with each
step, demanding a
pause
           to let them knit
together again
 
Only halfway back up the hill,
I had to ask myself
Is this really worthwhile?
And perhaps I imagined the wry smiles
of strangers, but the smell from the bag
offered me reassurance
and on we went
 
Just four short weeks later,
two weeks post-you,
I felt that old familiar pull.
 
Dialled the number, made my order.
 
Hastily pulled on my coat and my shoes,
almost went straight out the door,
almost went-
before I remembered
you
remembered that
I couldn’t go out-
just like that, with a hastily
grabbed bag-
to get something
 
there I was
unencumbered by my bump, but
there you were; on the outside.
Something had ended
Something had begun
 

Comments   

0 #2 Lynn 2021-02-25 10:52
Really like this Emily. You have captured all the feelings so well and I can relate to them.x
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0 #1 Dave Morgan 2021-02-10 10:47
Very vivid that Em. I can smell the noodles. Who would have thought thay could have inspired such a reflection, Just in time for Chinese New Year. Like Proust's madeline cakes they will haunt you forever. :
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