Lost Ticket by David Devanny
Lost Ticket
his lost ticket drifts
pickling in a beaded jar
of russet sarsons
malt vinegar – there –
bobbing there with bladderwrack
salt, pepper, stock cubes
curled up tortilla
sanctuary performance
stool cultures, leathers,
motherlands, pharaohs,
chords and bobbing vinegar
left-wing sardine curds.
it's one of those shelves.
he had meant to sort it out
when they moved in some
seven years ago
but more stuff pops up and stocks
the cupboard up top.
bear thinks to himself
that’s just how life is these days
forgetting ferments,
tickets, fingerroot,
fenugreek and curry leaf
mortars, pebbles, chits.
CHITS
BLADDERWRACK
Words by David Devanny
Edited by Eleanor Rogers