Ode to Blu Tack

by Jack Cooper

Speck of skyslide, Penicillium mold
grown in zero gravity
             you have no shape to speak of.
Semi-precious adhesive, you belong with beautiful things.
Ancient Egyptians would have placed you with gold
             inlaying death masks with Blu Tack and fingerprints
understanding that a soul takes many forms,
each carrying the same weight.
             O Saviour of student rooms!
Of white walls without a place for eyes to fix!
You are true as Coventry blue, unafraid of holding up
the work of others,
your own unrecognised.
Tell me – forbidden snack, crab blood
mixed with cornflour – how can I make change stick
             but stay myself?