Fey Ugokwe's Blog - Posts Tagged "culinary-fiction"

And The Petite--new- over old-scarred and knocking at pots, playing at scents upon scents upon yester-innocence, like air of peoples layered in lingering, floral-like emulsions/slick store-bought waters; briny human dank of all hours yielding sheen; & whistling wafts of sweet herbs, brash spices, local protein--swirl-simmering o'er young Dallas & its irrepressible gleam:

She swirled them all a blood punch tongue-careening, and heady, variegated soft flesh wading in it so sweetly, but just like her it was too quickly pickling:

New, she quick skinny-dipped into blinking bright green, a fresh-spooned lap in the bracing aqueous, emerging dutifully dainty up the liquids light--a finish clean--L.A. in the lush verdant so well winking, suited her. But...

Red silk waft, stray long strands ethereal--and flying--the glint of gilt embroidery, hands-feet ink like jewelry, casting out the swirling city ferments, beckoning toward the ever-sated covenants, in salt:

And they were two flirting at pots eyes on eyes and veins rushing, with the ambrosial mix of peoples as their green screen and it was sweet-sweat spice-smelling and sensuous, giddy back and well pleasant spinning, the chatting laughing breathing eating touching--in the savory-lush, oak, and rye--for a time:

Mouthful of smooth, rounding sure into vanilla, lifted with real air and time--he told her with a grin that that's what he wanted. But:

Inching into city blacktop on ballet flats--careening, kinetic cornucopia of pungent sight, scent, all sound--insistent hands reaching, squishing at the lusciousness, looking for the bruisings in the wrong place...

"The food seemed much the same to her...edible toys, junk so bright--symbols, unbeknownst to her, of what his own inner world had become..."

And she was at hearing the stirring of pots and the strong breaths of salt breeze--aerating likely a curry, perhaps a pepper pot too...and then her mum's tongue--gingerly, determinedly, slow-yielding the sage--telling her the truth about what she had married...

"Juanita bustled ahead, her slim but curvy hips swiftly navigating the twists and turns along the patron floor like a salsa dancer's at sway..."