Shades of White

SNOW CRUNCH.  Sugar cube. Pasteurised milk. A crisp lightning bolt. Three hairs from a Bengal tiger. Fluffy cotton. Styrofoam.  Natural yoghurt. Baby powder.  Maggots. Lard. You covered head to toe in whipped cream. A blank page.  Five rasgullas. Iodised salt. An empty envelope.  One cooked grain of basmati rice. A lab coat. The edge of a wave. Melted candle wax. The smoke from your cigarette. My breath on a cold morning.