suddenly the sweetness of some fruit
i can’t recall
memory’s maw models some flowery drupe,
not a mango
spread across a lisp thin wheat
its saccharine spear implacable
i heave on repeat, breathe
in hopes of dislodging the pneumonic
of seeds, split spit and juice — an unmistaken
but missing flame
[for Matthew Rohrer, 062120121546]