flows off the
tongue slowly, softly,
an embrace, a new pussy willow,
a silk scarf. Syllables run together,
not the hard C
of care, or the C H
of cherish, which click and rustle
in the mouth, hard candy or
a blast of fresh cold water.
"Cuidado," I
want to say
when you leave the room, when
you turn down the street. I want
to wrap the sound around you, have
the silk stretch out past my
own arm’s short reach.