Barbara Fisher: Two Poems

A Survivor
I love to wander in the Museum
of Australian Food, to marvel
at endangered species or learn
of dishes now departed if not extinct.
What happened to carpet-bag steak,*
oyster soup, chokoes with white sauce,
salad dressing involving condensed milk,
or Spanish cream and puftaloons?†
Reassuring then to find a rare survivor,
the Australian spaghetti sandwich.
The pasta, soft little worms snugly nestled
in tomato sauce, still comes in small tins
that impart a faint metallic flavour.
This unique interpretation of spaghetti,
spread between slices of white bread,
finds its way to many a packed lunch.
What is more, it’s still esteemed along
with a modest variation; heated and served
on buttered toast it can provide some consolation
for a humble, often lonely, evening meal.
                                     Barbara Fisher
*A steak stuffed with oysters.
†Scones deep-fried in dripping, often split and spread with golden syrup.

Hide and Seek
Reading old diaries is a risky game.
Who is this person
moving through the words,
often concealed, then bobbing out,
suddenly candid, only to disappear?
Sometimes I recognise myself
like a friendly face
in a big, indifferent crowd
but sometimes
I meet a blank stare
and cannot believe
my eyes.
           Barbara Fisher