Editor’s Statement: Tyx deftly opens the poem in media res and builds a scene in few words. Not only do the details of the rain, plastic fork, and spicy eggplant snare the senses, the poem is filled with echoes of hard c throughout: car/congealed/cold curry/confluence/coconut. Ultimately, the brevity of language creates emotional expansion as we foresee a relationship changing with age.
Artist Statement: Many readers have experienced the spiciness of a new relationship. I was trying to capture the potent force of that early energy, how it seemed that nothing—not the cold rain, not the cold curry, not the lack of plates and regular silverware, not the close quarters of the car—could tamp down the joy of tasting this rich mingling of flavors that paralleled the mingling of our lives.
Cold Curry
Even the next day
huddled in the car
icy rain pelting down,
even with the congealed
rice, the plastic forks,
the cold curry
sends us into ecstasy,
the confluence of sweet
and spicy swimming
in coconut milk,
the earthy richness
of eggplant and peppers.
Eating straight from
the takeout containers,
we dribble on our jackets
moaning and smacking
our lips and I can only pray
that if holding you ever
grows cold, loses
its heat, let it be
like this curry.
