Yes I have just discovered her, so here’s another poem that made me smile:

Peas
Lorna Crozier

Peas never liked any of it.
They make you suffer for the sweet
burst of green in the mouth. Remember
the hours of shelling on the front steps,
the ping into the basin? Your mother
bribing you with lemonade to keep you there,
splitting them open with your thumbs.

Your tongue finds them clitoral
as it slides up the pod.
Peas are not amused.
They have spent all their lives
keeping their knees together.

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Radish and goat’s cheese. I am wondering if they will taste good together.

Radishes
Lorna Crozier

Radishes flip their skirts in the wind
like a line of chorus girls
throw them over their heads.

If they were singers
they’d be the Andrews sisters.
If they had jobs
they’d be nurses who drive
red sports cars after work.

Every spring you put up with
their flirtations
for the crunch between your teeth
the quick surprise
of rain and fire
they’ve saved all season
just for you.