Cinnamon Debris

Gabrielle Powell
Jun 9 · 1 min read

You’re a spoonful of cinnamon.

You splatter my lungs and I wheeze.

Are you debris?

Confetti?

Both thrown like some chaotic spell.

With one, lick-lipping slurp,

The words I know,

Become words I knew,

Cotton candy under my tongue.

Do you feel me dissolve?

The Autumn you’ve hatched?

Toasty.

Gritty.

So I try and cough you out.

Do you see this mouth?

The tongue-twisted swaddle you’ve made of me?

Honey,

Can I trap your warmth?

Can I trust your sweetness?

And still,

I’ll stay.

And still,

I’ll go back for the double-dip,

Cinnamon confetti or debris.

    Gabrielle Powell

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