Every Time Curry, or Flavours of a Confessed and Unrepentant Chili Tongued Lover / maelynn seymour-major

Curry was the first to waken my tongue
The crisp bite of ginger on tastebuds
The smell of black cardamom smoky in thick sauce
Fingers stained raw sienna, burnt sienna
Scooping from the bowl to my mouth with naan
Burned with phaal first then vindaloo
My nose runs, my eyes water—this is good
I won’t forget

my tongue plumbs curries like old memories,
layers of metal-hot flavours,
aromatic with once said words,
thick with scenes that sit in my mouth

I won’t forget
My fingers are numb from slicing green chilies
I fry up onions and cumin red chilies cloves
Cloying the kitchen with hot scents and spices
Tasting curry my tongue remembers


Maelynn Seymour-Major is a lecturer at The College of The Bahamas, in the School of English Studies.  She obtained her BA in English Literature and MA in Poetic Practice from Royal Holloway, The University of London.  She puts her poems up on Confessions of a Logophile.


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