He kissed the tip of my tongue at sunrise, and I tasted gen: I would never be me without him in my mouth; my heartbeats would fade and die without him filling my veins. I was addicted to his scent, to his fluid skin, to the jolt he shot into my mind. Forever yours, I thought… But by noontime, his breath soured my day. I still wanted him. Thought, I need you… And I was wrong; for under moonlight, my tongue kissed a new lover. I am me.
a tree gone liquid,
in me this dark and shining—
my coffee-less tongue.
Process Note – After a series of stomach problems, I was advised to gradually reduce my intake of coffee… until I had to stop drinking it all together. A couple of days ago, my doctor said that it was safe to go back to a cup or two a day. I brewed my first pot grinning like a mirth-filled maniac… then I sipped the coffee… just to have my tongue tell me that we no longer care for its taste. Now I go to bed with tea, and wake up to tea. And love it like that.
Gen – I never used the word “gen” before today, so I wanted to share its meaning: information; find out about.
for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Sunday’s Mini-Challenge: Judith Wright). Grace, the challenger, says Judith Wright started losing her hearing in her 20s. My poem was inspired by Wright’s “Five Senses”; the middle line of the haiku section of my haibun, “in me this dark and shining”, is a direct quote.
linked to Poets United, Poetry Pantry 264