#45

One year everything
From strange new meats
To whole huge pies
Used to be dead sandwiches
Peanut butter bleeding into bread,
Soapy crusts
Wandering the school grounds
For a hidden spot
Ending up in the deserted maths block loos
Forking unwilling cold fried rice and sausage nubs
Sandwiches in the wardrobe
Turning plastic bags into blue biodomes

Adult now and freedom
To choose to reject
To follow my stomach
Sadly now by chains
Tugging
Trying to hold off labelling its habits
For fear of willing a disability into being

At least no longer Africa is thrust at me
Think of the children.
I have a partner to mop up my remains
And I have read of other cultures
Where my lack of hunger
Would be celebrated

Goodbye clean plates and Little Chef lollipops
I am just in saying no.

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