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Pea Soup

Mother’s in the soup,
quite literally believing
in divine properties of peas.
Father's fallen in,
raises one pea stained arm,
alarm written all over his shooter,
hooter blocked.
Sinking fast inside pea saturated socks,
he can't blow soggy peas away.
What should i do?
There’s a lilo
by the side of the pan.
I strap myself to it,
“I am coming to the rescue.”
like a fully grown man.
Dad’s gone under.
I feel for him,
catch hold of his spoon handle.
It is empty.
“Eat your soup.” i command.
Mother does the butterfly stroke.
She spoke once last week,
now she’s about to speak again.
“The flavours wrong.
Not enough salt.
She’s always finding fault.
Dad lies among the thick heavy peas
on the bottom of the pan.
I haul him out, he gives me a clout.
“Your a hero.” mother shouts.
Next time i will get ham in it.

14 Jul 17

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