C.R. McArthur: Two Poems

You

I remember everything about that afternoon. And then,

as I was leaving,

how you told me

that if I had been

ten minutes earlier

I would have met

your other lover.

Cheese

Tonight I shall open the packet of cheese

that has been sitting

on the shelf of my fridge

since the weekend.

I have eyed it once or twice (en passant),

but I must have been waiting

for a special occasion.

Tonight’s the night.

Not that I’m doing anything special tonight.

I rarely do anything special

but that’s another story.

I have just sliced through the thick, plastic bag

and exposed the cheese.

The packet’s got one of those little kangaroo logos on it,

so I must be supporting Australia by eating this cheese—

that’s got to be good.

The packet says the cheese is “sharp”

but it would be funny

if I cut myself on a piece of cheese.

The packet also says the cheese is “crumbly”.

I do like a crumbly cheese,

but I hate it when it crumbles everywhere

and you lose half the cheese on the floor.

Oh well, here goes!

I’ll think of Ben Gunn while I eat my first piece,

now there’s a man who liked his cheese.

Actually this cheese tastes pretty damn good,

particularly with these crispbreads I bought.

And it goes very nicely with this Clare Valley riesling.

This may turn out to be quite an evening.

Later, I might even write a poem about cheese.

C.R. McArthur

C.R. McArthur