Tiny combinations of morphemes, you create and fracture culture
Into tiny flecks of gypsum glistening off the cellulose pulp,
Dried and fibrous in our hands, like a desert rose,
Pulmonary pressure producing articulate sparks off a polyglot’s larynx,
Igniting the combustible vegetation of semantic-conceptual fields
That burn uncontrollably for days on end.
O how I yearn for thee,
Your smooth, nimble semantics nuzzled between my frontal cortices,
Sweet stanzas stimulating sensory systems;
So selfish I have been, sugar.
Accept this bouquet and let us enjoy this caress
As my salty sweat smears your syntax.
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