Poetry list
o salutaris
the simple disc white
and edible made for me
not a meal yet a feast
flour watered cut
and heated pierced and
hammered accompanied
by the seeping then the
lanced flood – filling now
a cup – it melts me us
and time on my tongue
what can it mean when
my power consumes and
forgets till the baking
runs out and there is
nevermore
© Neil Thompson 2025