by Jo Fisher

I mark this moving moment
with dinner from the chippy down the road
and a glass of cheap white wine,
and I find that the taste of this is
far richer than the finest feast.
Sarson’s Malt spread on my tongue,
and greased-up fingers,
and a salty, starchy stench
which lingers
in a room that’s only mine for one more night.
This seems just right.

No need for endings to be
either bangs or whimpers;
sometimes it calls for something smaller –
something simpler.

Taking stock with cod and chips
as time slips by, nods, and flies,
the goodbye between its lips.

Jo Fisher | @joannefisher  | @jo_fisher_ | Jo is a poet, writer, storyteller, theatre reviewer and chronic people pleaser based in Southampton, UK. She was a 2019 Hammer and Tongue National Poetry Slam Finalist and performed for three whole minutes at the Royal Albert Hall. You can often identify her writing through her excessive and overzealous use of the semicolon.

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