Mudlark No. 51 (2013)

Bellyful Tales

The legends of that locale are called bellyful tales because 
they are told when no one is hungry. The only task then
is talk, for tongues to vary, abundantly, the few themes.

And aren’t we allowed indulgences? Having lived once, 
then the leisure to tell it over, having loved one, 
the chance to lose ourselves again—

The dish of the region is rundown, a pot of coconut milk,
plantains, peppers, octopus, squid, any scraps, always cooking
on woodstoves—a broth of what could have been waste. 

No, there’s nothing new in it. But it couldn’t be richer.
What would you rather have than a thing you know 
spiced and simmered, spoken and seconded, 

in another’s accent?

Rose McLarney | Tributaries of the Same Body
Contents | Mudlark No. 51 (2013)