Since meeting you
aphasia:
this greedy, throaty, thirst for words
that comes to nothing.
In your presence, reduced to this gritty need,
I scour
which leaves my brain raw and produces only one word
with no meaning
my tongue articulates in anticipation:
the blade at the back of my teeth
the stalk arched and rising
yet the only word produced
Glinted
is composed of phonemes...
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