Almost Spring

First real writing in a while, it's just a revision, but I'll take it. This poem is pretty close to being able to leave the house on its own.

HOW MY TONGUE GOT SPLIT

I have always loved

to say 'acetaminophen.'

A wizened woman

once said

that some words

though light,

are almost Almighty

in the mouth.

Can be held

on the tongue

like a nib of licorice.

Other words

are roots

that can be chewed

for medicinal value.

They dampen

the tongue darkly.

Some praise

the blood pressure,

fatigue even

the mighty muscle

of the heart.

Like 'acetaminophen,'

some cause blood

to flow.

Your name is also a word

in a language

I cannot yet speak,

a yearning

on my tongue.

Some say Desire

is almost almighty.

This word is

habit forming.

I lick its aftertaste

from my stained lips.

A rare sweet root,

it can be added

to certain sentences

to mask bitterness.

The pharmacist says

boiled into an extract,

it could alleviate

even the barking cough

of the lonely.

If a name rhymes

with acetaminophen;

will it relax

the hard muscle

of this heart,

or spur

hemorrhage?

Uncertain syllables

spill from my mouth,

cloak me

in a robe

like a monk

kneeling

in the dark cave

of a heart,

chanting

a naked name

until light.