Grape-Craving
©August 4th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I crave grapes.
Yes, grapes!
Rich, luscious, succulent,
Tight-skinned, green-gemmed
Bursting-at-the-seams
Grapes!
Like chrysoprase cabochons
Strung together, grapes
Shining in the light, those
Green gems so tight,
Make me crave them.
Their translucence drives
Me sick with desire
And their sweetness
Causes me to swoon.
Grapes that ripen slowly
In the hot sun,
Inviting greedy raccoons
To feast at night.
Ah, those grapes!
Grapes, which, when you pluck them,
Give out an audible sigh of desire
And say, “Yes! Oh yes!”
And I imagine silken curtains
And sylph-like ladies
Passing them out on burnished plates.
And lazy, overfed Romans lying about
Eating the clustered globes
Filled with nectar that would
Intoxicate if they were allowed
To ferment into wine.
Now, as I write this, I arise,
Open the refrigerator,
Grab a container of washed grapes
And eat them, two by two,
Four by four.
I am sick with sweetness.
Drunk with greed.
So … sick, so drunk.
(Why did I do this?!)
(Why bother with wine
If you can have grapes?!)
No! I am not Lucullus,
Nor was meant to be;
I’m just a lowly grape-eater
Hedonist before bedtime.
My dreams shall be sweet.
And I shall be well-satisfied.
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