A Poem on Perfection

there is one calorie in a raspberry, 

equivalent to consuming a sixth of an almond 

or munching on a miniscule spear of asparagus. 

I watch your mouth nibble on the cone, 

lips coated with sprinkles and saliva 

as ice-cream oozes down. 

it seems almost like a lewd affair 

the eagerness with which you lock your lips onto it, 

seemingly forgetting about the man you were locking hands with. 

I watch with contempt 

as I count the 256 calories in your cone of pretty pink raspberry ice-cream, adding another 20 for the chocolates sprinkles strewn down your shirt. 

you take a lick of your cone 

and I, of my salad. 

the 75% reduced fat cheese almost rubbery as I imagine the chocolate sprinkles glazing my lips. the roasted sesame seeds, a weak competitor to the sugar cone. 

my mouth flooded with temptation, 

the allure of a lick awfully similar to the call of the sirens 

but alas, I feel the rolls settling down on my waist, 

anon acting like wax in my ears, 

liberating me from the painful times that would have followed through. 

but as I gaze at the cool pink whirls 

dotted with sugary brown specks, 

I feel my resolve breaking 

and the prison walls dissolving. 

I cave in for just one lick, just one spoon. 

Just one, 

I promise. 

yet the guilt slowly suffocates me, 

the inability to prevent the want of such crude pleasures seems so weak, slowly reaching its hands out 

constricting me from devouring. 

the air struggles to escape my lungs 

my bloodshot eyes, a telltale sign 

my priorities realigned. 

the pretty pink raspberry ice cream 

with its swirls and sprinkles 

eventually smothers me to sleep.

By Malvika Gera, for the Trans Solidarity Fundraiser

• ASHOKA UNIVERSITY
• Trans Solidarity Fundraiser