UNTITLED (FOR A ROSE)

I want you

In my mouth

So I eat

Your words,

Savoring each

Consonant

Vowel

And

Turn of phrase.

A digestion

Of sorts

Poignant and pure:

A delectable

Challenge 

To my pallet.

They swell in me

Your words 

And

Show to me,

New promises

To vow;

Perhaps to

Keep.

And yet

The miles I've come

The miles to go

Can only then 

Allow me sleep.

-jim hill (2-28-2016