Your name.

Wears its own fame.

Starting with B.

I like how B blows out of my mouth.

Like a playful Boo!

child’s ambush from

a hidden corner

or

your surprise from behind,

hands eclipsing my eyes

and kiss in the neck,

wistful sighs.

R likes to roll on my tongue.

Wants to get out -

doesn’t want to get out.

Jumps, bounce of my teeth

and rolls like a train speeding its feet.

S likes to become shhhhh…

when I put my heavy, tired head on your

chest, nest.

All vowels and consonants

are disciplined solders, creating brigades of

syllables,

always ready to march,

when desire knocks on the door of my mouth.

Hurrying deep south.