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 Entry for Poattic-21


Last Grocery List

Stinging sleet falls on my parasol. My long coat hugs


My contours- my frozen fingers button it up thoroughly.


A shiver runs down my spine, nipping into my flesh—


The lethal kiss of icy pellets brushes my cheeks.


Into the comfort of fleece-lined slouchies


I brace my Isolined feet. And I rush for the Tube,


Stashing a hurried student’s list of Farmers Markets


And a London map in the hollow of my armpit…




My Oyster card touches the turnstile of the underground station.


And I mutter ingredients of my frugal meals: milk, cheese,


Organic eggs, mustard, hardened loaves, fresh carrot, white cabbage,


And lean meat. But my mind’s tempted by goodies


That every December brings near the Kings Cross:


Popina’s Mexican Roll, Baked Falafel, Wild Mushroom Quiche


Montadito’s Artisanal cheese, Artichoke Paté, Aubergine & Harissa Spicy Meze.


And then my eyes are dewed, Ah the Indian delicacies!




My eyes stubbornly stray away from the exhaustive list


I’d diligently made- Sundays must go to—*Marylebone, *Walthamstow, *Islington;……


 On Saturdays visit— #Balham; #Ealing; #Notting, or, #Parliament Hill; ……


And on Weekdays rush through—@Bloomsbury, @The Portable Wife, @Nudge……


Neither **Dusty Knuckle; **Del’Aziz,…… nor Tesco, Lidl, Aldi for me


My list, I crumple, tempted by sweet- smelling delicacies!


I shrug off frugality, and sinfully gulp down crusty savouries,


Sacrificing that last penny, I slink into a self- imposed penitentiary.




©Mumtaz Khorakiwala



PS: This poem describes The Kings Cross Real Food Market in London.


This image is taken from Google Pics.

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