I am perplexed by the silence
that accompanies cravings.
Which is different than infatuation.
Which is an external gravity
that draws me into eccentric orbits.
My watering mouth confuses me.
So does a pungent clove scent
trimmed with oleander.
I feel like I am about to overflow.
I collapse inward
condensed in my silence.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney