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.)
About Bartholomew Barker
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 
Aah a lovely conclusion!
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Thank you. I had to put out the fire somehow.
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Hmmmm, now I’m hungry for Indian food.
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Then my job is done.
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Wonderful š Perfect description of the unquenchable fire of hot spice!
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Thank you. I like to describe exquisite moments in my poetry.
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Nice play on words at the end … love me some Indian cuisine..
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Thanks! I assume those having little experience with Indian food wouldn’t get the last stanza but this poem isn’t for them anyway.
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And a happy ending! Well done.
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Thanks. I always enjoy dessert.
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My pleasure!
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I love this very much!
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Thanks! It was an inspiring meal.
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