Your tongue invites;
a drop of red ketchup
languishing on your lips.
The wheat bread relents
with a murmuring sigh.
Eyes closed;
you bite off a mouthful
of my qi, with barbecued paneer.
A tiny crumb sticks
to your little finger.
Chewing food;
meditating, mediating, meandering
hunger satiated,
hunger stroked.
