Chana Saag, Hot
I set fire to my mouth
with self delusion,
misbelieving I could handle
the spice.
Water doesn’t put it out
it spreads it around
like flames and gasoline.
Nose running,
scalp sweating,
lips smouldering.
My stomach ā a furnace
whose walls are buckling,
belching like a dragon
until a lovely lhassie
in a mango dress
extinguishes the fire
with her kiss.
(From this morning’s Living Poetry Prompt and tonight’s dinner.)
Aah a lovely conclusion!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I had to put out the fire somehow.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hmmmm, now I’m hungry for Indian food.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Then my job is done.
LikeLike
Wonderful š Perfect description of the unquenchable fire of hot spice!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I like to describe exquisite moments in my poetry.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice play on words at the end … love me some Indian cuisine..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks! I assume those having little experience with Indian food wouldn’t get the last stanza but this poem isn’t for them anyway.
LikeLike
Pingback: SoSS #8- 17/08/2019 – Jupiter's Lair
And a happy ending! Well done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. I always enjoy dessert.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love this very much!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks! It was an inspiring meal.
LikeLike