Sweet Shop

The whole universe is here.

Every colour, a few

on the verge of being barely tolerable.

Every shape as well as minute flourishes

created in the prehistory

of each sandesh by precise pinches.

The horizontal trays

brim (but don’t tremble) with mass and form.

The serrations are near-invisible.

You’d miss them if they were deeper or clearer.

The soft oblongs and the minuscule, hard

pillow-shaped ones are generated

so neatly that instinct alone

could have given them shape, and no mould.

In the harmony shielded by the glass

is an unnoticed balance of gravity and play.