Comfort food by Suchandra Bose


Art by Sir David Wilkie

Comfort food

So much of you is comfort 

your ebony curls,

your copper skin, 

your hooded eyes 

with sleep 

beckoning me 

awake 

for a full course meal 

at three in the morning.


As I caress the back of your hands 

with a quiet reckoning 

a recklessness 

that allows for 

a touch, 

so brief 

that it can echo 

through the gleam of an ivory mooncake. 


Yet so, pronounced –

so vivid, beneath the moonless sky 

that the powdered dark

cannot puff out the glint 

of the lit cigarette. 


so much of you is comfort 

that our syllables dandle amid 

your hushed gaze

recoil into 

the promise of wordlessness

and bemuse the boiling broth.


and of course, the curve of your 

flabs is the routine 

of a curdled

nourishment

hidden in your

dependency. 


Insisting

I cook dinner for three 

every night,

for comforts sake,

despite our double tenancy.



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