Mutton Rolls

Arji Manuelpillai

• Publisher: Out Spoken Press
• Year: 2020
• Print ISBN: 9781916046870
• eBook ISBN: 9781838021108
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Asian Poetry
• Index: Literature

" Arji Manuelpillai hits the ground running with this debut and I freaking love it. His poems are funny, irreverent, hugely affecting. He's fidgety, darts moment to moment – you'll rush after him, then suddenly find he's stopped, spun on his heel and you're face-to-face with his good-natured grin. Manuelpillai will dial up the volume just to whisper something damn beautiful beneath its surface. Every page of Mutton Rolls is tasty, and announces by increment a highly enjoyable new voice." — Wayne Holloway-Smith

"The poems in this brilliant, playful debut are multifarious though gratifyingly interlinked, addressing the subjects of Sri-Lankan British identity, masculinity, friendship, grief and love. The tone is sometimes satirical, but there is no hiding behind satire in Arji Manuelpillai 's work – great tenderness and beauty characterise these poems, and the poet's voice is completely original, entirely his own." — Hannah Lowe

regret

is my mum chatting in Tamil to the boy at the petrol station

counter

his eyes full beam, her shoulders slacken

faces into old grooves, as friends at a reunion

she is Aunty, he is Thamby

and the queue behind us can wait

as can I, hanging between them

a wind vane trying to find the wind

plucking subtitles from their eyebrows

intention in the corners of their lips

snatching at the remnants of English

dropped like loose change

I think I got that bit…that’s probably what he said

ceremonies, funerals, temple poojas

when the priest circles the burning flame

muttering the words of God

I only pray

he does not speak to me

You no understand Tamil?

I’m caught off guard, a ghost touched

perusing the wrapper of a Lion bar

No I ...I ...

want to flutter my english vowel sounds

reel off Shakespeare, Biggie, Eliot

in the voice of a newsreader

but I’m distracted by my image in the security monitor

my body shifting foot to foot

a child outside the Headmaster’s office

he doesn’t pause long, returning to Tamil

probably telling my mum I’ve forgotten my roots

and my mum nodding, probably saying

sorry, I agree, I’m embarrassed to say he’s my son

we are farewelling

my mother and the boy smiling

me waving my free Lion bar at the electric door

cancer cancer cancer

when I am touching myself like this

I am either masturbating

or checking that I am not dying

suddenly

I knead the meat of my chest

follow the ticker tape along my back

fondle the pockets of my scrotum

like I am searching for change

these are monthly measures of tenderness

made daily

when it arrived that summer

aunties and uncles would console

but none would dare speak its name

now we cannot speak his

an IKEA flat pack

I am following you up the aisle along the checkout

sat beside you as you drive it’s in the back bubble

Wrapped I’m tearing the box popping bags of nuts

and bolts b...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Copyright
• Title Page
• Acknowledgements
• Table of Contents
• credit card
• brown boys in Kavos
• half catholic
• nominated for a BAME prize
• Cecilia says we’re all fucked up
• Hawai‘i
• raves aren’t places to cry
• after the Sri Lankan bombing that kills 360 (after the 20 year war that killed significantly more)
• white people
• Crufts
• regret
• cancer cancer cancer
• an IKEA flat pack
• after being called a paki
• obviously my girlfriend is the best
• monkey
• S. S. Industries (after the ‘83 riots)
• because it’s in the Lonely Planet top five places to visit
• Other titles by Out-Spoken Press