Give Me Rasam

It starts with an itch,
A scratch on the inside of your throat.
You swallow,
Causing a rapid contraction &
Expansion of muscles along your foodpipe,
Easing your fears.

It starts with uneasiness,
A little shifting in your seat,
Some water to cool yourself,
But alas!
You have had cold water.

It ends with a cough,
A popping of your ears,
The filling of your sinuses,
The wet feeling of your tears.

When you long for rasam, and it is,
Farther than it is near,
And you long for soup,
Not tomato, just clear.

When you long for your comforter,
The warmth of your bed,
And you see your mother tucking you in,
But it’s all in your head.


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