I found a lovely poem this morning, whose theme is the feel of words in the mouth, one of my favorite topics.
English Flavors
by Laure-Anne Bosselaar
I love to lick English the way I licked the hard
round licorice sticks the Belgian nuns gave me for six
good conduct points on Sundays after mass.
Love it when 'plethora,' 'indolence,' 'damask,'
or my new word: 'lasciviousness,' stain my tongue,
thicken my saliva, sweet as those sticks--black
and slick with every lick it took to make daggers
out of them: sticky spikes I brandished straight up
to the ebony crucifix in the dorm, with the pride
of a child more often punished than praised.
'Amuck,' 'awkward,' or 'knuckles,' have jaw-
breaker flavors; there's honey in 'hunter's moon,'
hot pepper in 'hunk,' and 'mellifluous' has aromas
of almonds and milk. Those tastes of recompense
still bittersweet today as I roll, bend and shape
English in my mouth, repeating its syllables
like acts of contrition, then sticking out my new tongue--
flavored and sharp--to the ambiguities of meaning. |
