Fired, fried

I dry to a crisp
like a vadaam
laid out under the hot
summer sun.

Pieces of me
shrink and shrivel
parched to a desirable thinness
in the shimmering air.

An then the initiation
by smoking, hot oil.
I emerge enveloped
in scalding blisters of grease.

‘Kataak!’ I break
as you hold me
brittle in your beefy fingers.
I am crunched, consumed
and cause heart trouble.


4 responses to “Fired, fried

  1. Oh beautiful. It somehow reminds me of a poem I once wrote about love and sweets. And it also makes me hungry.

  2. Neha: Thank you! I’d like to read your poem – could you send me a link?

    aandthirtyeights: Nandri, mikka nandri!

  3. Here you go varali. This is the poem I was talking about. 🙂

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