European Appetite

Thoughts on English imperialism

Sometimes I think about

The irony of ordering

Indian takeout in England.

How the milky coconut curry

has the bitter-sweet taste

Of disease and blood.

And how the parsley flakes

Are so delicately placed across my bowl,

Spread like a religion

becoming entirely hypocritical

by disregarding its highest commands.

 

I’ll let my spoon sail through the sauce

Like some sea expedition

And immortalize a man who got lost,

Searching for the original Indians.

And I’ll slice this spicy chicken,

Like a genocidal murderer

Ripping apart limbs without remorse.

 

It becomes less heated over time,

Easier to swallow.                    

It’s easy to forget when you’re hungry.

 

Dessert is on its way:

Cardamom seeds to                           

Cleanse the palette.

Not unlike ethnic cleansing,

Or “culturing the savages”,

If that makes you rest easier at night.

I’ve never tasted so strange a treat"

Flavored like imperialism"with a hint

Of a God complex.