This pufferfish or blowfish sliced so thin
That artwork on the serving plate shows through –
Translucent flesh, no toxic guts and skin –
Still has some killer thrills in store for you.
Those organs where the poison’s concentrated
(Inter alia, ovaries and liver)
Could prep you to be buried or cremated
Were you to nibble on the merest sliver,
But these bits pack a fraction of that dose.
You’ll feel a tingling in the tongue and lips,
Then ‘lightness’, then (if you’re not comatose)
More tingle prickling at your fingertips.
Though sometimes the effects get more intense
And less euphoric, though some diners die,
These near-death biochemical events
Provide the best exotic foodie high.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Chris O'Carroll
would be pleased to hear them.