By Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad
Everyone likes my cupcakes all the time
When the cupcakes emerge from the oven they are
perfectly springy to the touch. Some things are so
much easier than others, I think to myself - baking
more than writing, in my case. There has never ever
been a bad cake day in my life. But bad poem days,
well...
*
We are at the bar after the open mic, talking about
the usual things: the loneliness of being writers,
the treadmill of multiple drafts, the inevitable downer
of rejections, when my phone dings with a mail alert.
That journal on my wish list does not have a place for
my piece. My heart sinks in a way my cakes never do.
*
Old habits die hard - I have always soothed pain and
disappointment with sugar. I pull out the hamper
I brought for my writer friends - my cupcakes wrapped
in festive paper, bow tied in fountains of cellophane.
Everyone digs in.
*
Beer buzzed and bleary, we stumble into the night
when a gaunt and drenched apparition asking for spare
change emerges from the shadows. My friend takes
my hamper and stabs slits in the cellophane with
his keys, asking me if he may give the man one
of my cupcakes. I watch him sink in hungry teeth,
relishing the treat. He asks if I baked them and I nod,
smiling, as he pronounces me an outstanding baker.
My friends laugh and agree.
I scroll through my inbox again, and sigh.
Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad is an Indian-Australian artist, poet, and pianist. She serves as a chief editor for Authora Australis. Find her @oormilaprahlad and www.instagram.com/oormila_paintings .
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