THEY EAT HORSES, DON'T THEY?

or THE NEIGH-SAYERS
or MR. ED BURGERS
or HORSE SHIT 

for TC, SJ and JM-G

1. 

Horse meat is the culinary name for meat
cut from a horse. It is a major meat

in only a few countries, but it forms
a significant part of the culinary traditions

of others. It is slightly sweet, tender, low in fat
and high in protein. In the late Paleolithic era

wild horses formed an important source of food.
Horse meat was also eaten as part of Germanic

pagan religious ceremonies in northern Europe
particularly associated with the worship of Odin

2.

France dates its taste for horse meat
to the Revolution. Just as hairdressers and tailors

set themselves up to serve commoners, the horses
maintained by aristocracy as a sign of prestige

ended up alleviating the hunger of the lower classes.
It was during the Napoleonic campaigns

when the surgeon-in-chief of Napoleon's grand army,
Dominique-Jean Larrey, served horse as a soup.

In Aspern–Essling, cut from the supply lines,
the cavalry used the horses' breastplates  

as cooking pots and gunpowder as seasoning.
In 1866 the French government legalised horse meat.

3.

It is a taboo in some English speaking countries.
It is a taboo amongst the Romani people and in Brazil.

Horse meat is not generally eaten in Spain (except in the North)
Horse meat is forbidden by Jewish dietary laws.

In the past horse meat has been eaten by Persians, Turks, Hanafi and Tartars,
but it has never been eaten in the Maghreb.

Popes Gregory III and Zachary instructed Saint Boniface
to forbid the eating of horsemeat to those he converted.

Despite the Anglophone taboo, horse meat was eaten in Britain,
especially in Yorkshire, until the 1930's and in times of post-war shortage.

4.

Beef (63%), Onion (10%), 
Wheat Flour, Water, Beef Fat,
Soya Protein Isolate, Salt,
Onion Powder, Yeast, Sugar, Barley Malt Extract,
Garlic Powder, White Pepper Extract,
Celery Extract, Onion Extract. Horse.

CONSTIPATION

for SJ

I felt it first
in my gut,
which contorted
around turds
like a brow
solving a problem.
It was not
the one thing,
but several
backed up
and hardening
into a fist
of stones.

My bowel
inflated
with flatulent
shouts and groans
that could not
commute
themselves
beyond the brick
of shit
that had settled
in my colon.

I puffed
as I pushed
my entire pelvic
floor at
the enormous
turnip that lodged
in my large
intestine.
I had taken
in too much 
and not enough
fibre, so
I swelled
like a pregnant sow, 
burdened
with a bellyful
of cack.

I squeezed
at my middle
in an effort
to pop
the cork
of my fizzy
brown dilemma.
No such luck!
I was stuck
with the bab
like a debt
inherited
from a dead
spouse or parent.

Eventually,
it collapsed
like a neutron star
after reaching
critical mess
in the produce aisle
of Tescos.
The staff
were polite
as they mopped
at the seeping
tide when it ran
on to pop
and crisps
and I cried
great big sobs
of relief
and I farted
and was released.