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.
