Rubber
What Chocolates In My Dreams Taste Like
Rich, dark bar of ambrosian wonder
stares as I slaver in envy
accessible but with sinful sniggers
I desire to consume it entirely
When the exploits of the day wear me down
I retreat to the flatlined bed
filled with prickly marsh of mythical gore
and a gaping bedspread
What I want is to sleep — but the chocolate
mocks me to eat it — unsparing
in its attempt. With a log of wounds
- anywhere you turn, there it is, staring
I gave in to the temptation — bit a huge chunk
my eyes were shut. I thought
if my grief had a palette of flavours
it would taste like this, anguish fraught
Chewing through the bar, an inhuman ordeal
- I couldn’t glean the end
of this nightmare — the insipid rubbery cud
was odious, I couldn’t pretend
I spat the bolus out, and I spat and spat
- little peaks of rubber formed
in the backyard of my grandma’s house
a hellish sight — neighbours scorned
I stood alone amidst the wilted mound
pleading but unafraid
of the monster of woe, that grew bigger
- and its stink… miles it could pervade
I have to wake up now or be consumed
by the ravages of my dream
- should someone bring me a bar again
I’ll be sure to scream!
Vaishnavi is a writer, self-taught filmmaker among other things. You can read all of her work by signing up for her newsletter.
