I Want to Give You Labels

I want to name you cinder, so I can burn you down to a combustible coal with no flame, chopped churned coated over the rough road of my tastebuds to melt each still icy shadowed remnant of last winter’s memories.

I want to name you scoop, and just that easily I will spoon you up with one large ladle then swallow you whole like a simple sacrifice meant to let me learn the flavor of your parts from the inside.

I want to stuff meyeri lemons in my pocket before I name you bramble, so every time I am tangled up in your bold behavior I can quench my thirst with these hard earned berries after I’ve drenched them in gin and citrus.

I want the language of your labels to roll in sweet tasting ripe mango rhythms from my refined palate, dripping and sticky with syllables spoken in the serenade of nuanced syncopation.

3.5.2021
MSR
word play and a sunrise
over the organ mountains