I don’t write very much poetry, and I don’t publish most of it here (The Donut Shop, Natchez, Mississippi to the contrary). Wednesday night, I was sitting in my U.S. Intellectual History 1865-Present lecture, listening to a talk about James Baldwin and company, when I felt inspired to jot down a quick poem. Its tangential commitment to food makes it appropriate for this website (which I suspect will be publishing more content with no relationship to food whatsoever soon).
Love Letter in a Lecture Hall
she smelled like tandoor and buttered nan
thick curry, chaat, chutney, paneer
[in electric lecture halls
the press of flesh and coffee cups make
like finding fiends in cham cham clouds]
she held a blue Bic and I loved it
Dear Blake, she wrote, her face obscured
behind my blinkers,
stewed love in secret pots.
Love told can be
scratched out before
the pumping pause of hearts unhinged.
One response to “Love Letter in a Lecture Hall”
This makes me smile, and want Indian food! Thank you