Buttery pastry cool from the fridge
rolled out into moon faces
that erupt with pallid potato pieces,
crying out for a bit of skirt;
chop her in pieces and lay her down
with a sneeze of pepper to make her tart.
Top with onions, ready to dredge
savoury sweetness into the meat
and the potato. Moisten the edge:
fold into pale half moons. Pierce
the top and drip in a little water;
slide onto a baking sheet.
The oven alchemizes to gold
the pastry; rich gravy pours
into the subterranean layers;
soft and crunch and smooth and punch —
rocket tastebuds into orbit.