On the tip of your tongue

 

 

Saturday, December 20, 2014

 

You feel it first

On the tip of your tongue

Before you taste it

Yielding then unyielding,

And as moist as a ripe mushroom

Making you ache to sink

All your teeth into it

But you plunge your tongue

Deep into it instead,

Circling the place

That makes you ache the most,

Lost in the depths of the forest

With no yearning to escape,

Waiting for the wolves to devour you

When you are the wolf

With the world on the tip of your tongue,

Doing all you can to ease the ache

To prepare this holy ground

For more of you to enter,

Your unyielding core plunging

Deep into that abyss

Rubbing more than just sticks together

With the hope of making a fire

That will consume you

Even as you burst,

So that you can no longer feel or taste

Or think, but merely keep on.