‘Celeriac Heart’ by Simon Barraclough

  Celeriac Heart sits knobbly in the fridge with my lungs and ribs. I don’t know what to do with it. Peel it, dice it, boil it, mash it, serenade it with razor strings of mandolin? It goes off. It’s binned. Next time I’ll search for recipes online.   (from Neptune Blue (Salt 2011). See an animated version of this poem here)     Simon … Continue reading ‘Celeriac Heart’ by Simon Barraclough