I love to lick English the way I licked the hard
round licorice sticks the Belgian nuns gave me for six
good conduct points on Sundays after mass.
Love it when plethora, indolence, damask,
or my new word: lasciviousness, stain my tongue,
thicken my saliva, sweet as those sticks black
and slick with every lick it took to make daggers
out of them: sticky spikes I brandished straight up
to the ebony crucifix in the dorm, with the pride
of a child more often punished than praised.
Amuck, awkward, or knuckles, have jaw-
breaker flavors; theres honey in hunters moon,
hot pepper in hunk, and mellifluous has aromas
of almonds and milk . Those tastes of recompense
still bitter-sweet today as I roll, bend and shape
English in my mouth, repeating its syllables
like acts of contrition, then sticking out my new tongue
flavored and sharp to the ambiguities of meaning.
