we sit down on the mat / the one with motorways and highrises and grinning families sprawling over it / and Mrs Tanner does the register / and if you’ve brought food from home you say SAMWICHES / even if it’s a bag of crisps you’ve brought / and if you’ve brought 50p you say FREESCHOOLDINNERS / pass your 50p to Mrs Tanner / she puts it in the envelope / and if you’re not eating until sunset you say RAMADAN / at lunch / if you’re a SAMWICH or a RAMADAN you eat up in the park / or don’t eat / with all the other SAMWICHES and RAMADANS / if you’re a FREESCHOOLDINNER you line up in the hall and take a tray / the colour of an avocado bathroom suite / you wonder what an avocado is / the dinner ladies / Emma’s mum and Llewellyn’s mum / the other Llewellyn / they ladle out the dinner bits / indifferent to the different tray compartments / flakes of their impasto makeup sometimes fall in too / the best days are the days / when it snows / we can all get here pretty easy on foot but the dinnerdriver can’t get the van out the valley when the road’s blocked / school is cancelled altogether / the next best days are the days / when there’s BASKETTI / usually it’s ROASBEEF / translucent slices / of boiled something / lost verruca socks / with GRAY-V / don’t worry mind there’s always CHOCOLATE CONCRETE / and it always comes with PINKUSTARD / sometimes it’s green / not really for eating either way / just for softening the slab / the first thing what you have to do / before you even looks at your ROASBEEF / is smother all six sides of CHOCOLATE CONCRETE in PINKUSTARD / let it sit / maybe our recipe has extra lime / maybe it’s just stale by the time it gets here from the valley / but no knife / not even the metal knives / while the metal knives last / before the other Llewellyn goes and gets them banned by throwing one at Mrs Tanner / is any match for FREESCHOOLDINNERS CHOCOLATE CONCRETE / not something you can just politely slice away at like some SAMWICH / the only way to cut through CHOCOLATE CONCRETE / jam a fork in / while the forks last / and TAP TAP TAP against the back end with the salt shaker / a master mason chiselling down the fortress / hit too hard and the whole slab explodes / you end up with a few crumbs on your tray / and everyone else’s brimming full with your CHOCOLATE CONCRETE / make sure the shaker lid is on real tight / people undo them see / chisel with a loose lid and drop whole pillars of salt on your tray / hilarious like / definitely the funniest thing to happen all day / unless it happens to you / do you even like the FREESCHOOLDINNERS CHOCOLATE CONCRETE though / I mean without the salt / not really the question though / is it / sublime indifference to all our tastes / the consistency / the presence / the unshakeable stability / comforting really / whether you like it or not
Oscar Mardell was born in London and raised in South Wales. He currently lives in Auckland, New Zealand, where he teaches Classics, brews beer, and practices Aikido. His poetry and essays have appeared in a variety of publications, including War, Literature & the Arts, The Literary London Journal, 3:AM Magazine, DIAGRAM, Terse, and Queen Mob’s Teahouse. He is the author of Rex Tremendae from Greying Ghost and Housing Haunted Housing from Death of Workers Whilst Building Skyscrapers.
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