By Lyn Chatham
At four am Seb cooks dinner
in his minimalist mock kitchen.
First he whips dumplings,
folding clouds of floury floss,
smothering the screen
like God with a gentle blender.
Then he cuts up pumpkin, impossibly orange
slabs of rock, on the white bench,
caresses coriander and mandarin
onto the salmon; which seems happy enough
being trussed by its own mortician.
Then Seb assembles a strawberry
soufflé, lovingly explaining
until the lava cream slips,
lurches, and explodes over
the sides of the pudding.
The camera is under every slop
easing its way down the slope
until it must surely shudder out,
to be wasted on the boards below
Image by: Austin Chan