ariachez
What’s the Taste of your Question?
They asked me
what my last meal
tasted like,
I told them
I had a cup of spaghetti
as a side dish
and a plate
full of laughing calories,
I held a tug of war
between my emotions and tongue,
which ended up leaving a knot
in my throat,
and when I swallowed,
my spaghetti
tasted like muscle tension.
They say
it is easiest to lose weight
when you don’t eat at all,
and the second easiest
is to let your tongue
eat a feast
yet – alter the digestion,
so I boasted
how I made a dessert
out of my fingers,
and dipped it
inside my sinful mouth,
I made an alley
out of my esophagus,
where my food ran
to and from,
yet – still, it ended
in a few minutes,
down with the flush.
But,
next time,
when they ask me again,
how my last meal was
with the same mocking smile
on their face,
I would tell them instead
that it was too good
that I ate two servings,
I would tell them,
that instead,
I am trying to place
the odd taste
of their question
on my tongue,
it isn’t sweet nor salty,
not sour nor bitter,
not even umami,
that maybe
if I could name the taste,
it would fit –
a taste of regret,
I would tell them,
I pity the mouth
where that question resides.