Add to my list of disliked words –
scritches, brewery, and regarded.

Scritches, with its piggish nose
and barn yarn yellow texture.

Brewery like cream gravy with not enough milk,
brewery like dog shit trapped inside non-slip tread,
brewery like a fountain, coinless, filled with leaves.

Regarded plays ping-pong with oars and
still loses.

I want words that bring to mind your sighlence.
Thistle. Solemnize. Brahms.
The sound of your voice is decidedly cotton.
Warm like penumbra.
Fragrant like bewilder.
Soft and edgeless like a thing used to blanket
a child who sleeps through
light rain.

I want words that place your hands all over me.
Nourishment. Petrichor.
Fall.

It’s been a while, I know.
February, I think.

February.
Feb-brew-rare-y.

Balls.

Throw it in with clamor
and
retort.