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,