after Eduardo C. Corral
I’m building a vocabulary of words
that shudder under my tongue—
the dissolve
of sugar. Lacquer. Muscled.
Opal. Resolve.
Sweetheart.
I’m building a vocabulary
of shuddering, what we could make
of language, its languished
turning, our mouths
finding each other,
the late hour,
the windows
latched shut—you say things
to me, I say things
back. Undiminished.
Canvas. Earthbound. Holy.
Return. I’m building
a vocabulary for you,
words you can draw out of me
like coins
until I am speechless
and spent, until all I can do
is turn to you
as you turn the lights off,
the back of your hand grazing
my mouth,
the dark sudden
and whole, and every wish blindly
surfacing—
bite my lip
make me hurt
for the rest of it
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