I rise from bed, empty to taste curry
and green seasoning smoldering on the lips
unfamiliar, but a needed burning.
Wasn't it just last night? Cooking side by side at your stove?
Each burner busy with shrimp peppery crimson,
rice dirty and stewing browned chicken.
You with gold rimmed reading glasses
measuring careful, repeating steps in a recipe.
By memory, you teach tasting. in samples.
Trial begins spoonfuls for a willing victim.
You start giggling, breaking into laughter.
Watery smiling eyes mask pain agreeable.
Steps to building up tolerance.
These spices had never dwelled in my kitchen.
make room by pushing among shelves, what was bland
predictable at home. Cooled tea calls for flour scones.
We'll glance up from many pots simmering,
and kiss, fearful and soothing curious testing for the first time.
The moment is worshipping warmth of your bottom lip
wondering how I can carry fire in my mouth.
But you lied, again, cooled my tongue to quiet.
