It’s like that every day now—
presenting myself for annihilation.
You caress what washes through your fingers
and returns to the source.

You are making and unmaking me at once:
Name me and the unnameable arrives,
torn open, silent, arils tumbling out.
Taste me and what the tongue learns
is beyond saying:

a shape that
could be rolled into speech
but remains a delicate fold
outside the reach of language.