Stuti Sinha

Dessert for every season

I would be a lemon.

Peeled citrus heaven in a sparkling spritz,
flutters of a fragrant spring.
I draw daffodils of newly harvested hope
and radiant rebirth.

Now, no black hole has gravity
enough to swallow you.

I would be a jamun.

Sultry summer indulgence
nestled in cupped hands,
oozing lust in lilac elixir
caressing and pooling
on your coppery dappled shores.

You always know just how to hold me
in your folds.

I would be a fig

Autumnal jewels
in the comfort of nonna’s kitchen
preserved in old fashioned jars,
bubbled down stickiness
from plump purple teardrops.

One drop is an entire ocean,
(enough to swallow you)

I would be an orange

A wafting winter scent
unpeeling cravings into curled ribbons
like a marmalade of merlot gloaming.
Steep me in these ruby ripples,
I wilfully surrender

While you consume me in parts –
and rind.