cavatica

One more thing before bed.

(You know, I only go on these poetry sprees because my best friend does. I'm so competitive.)

I don't know why this metaphor lodged itself in my brain, but it did. If only my Grammar/Language and Society professor could see me now.

...he'd probably want to know why I didn't mention anything about cake.

Synonyms from an Unqualified Logophiliac

Though I am a linguist
I cannot frame a word for you
in this stammering morphology:
no fluent lingua franca
to describe how
I am modified by you
how you modify me-

we are sweet grammarians
dependent clauses
lacking punctuation so that we
run together
enjambed
wordless in our mute articulation

a single verb
intransitive
untestable

you are my vernacular

and I vocabularyless
when all my
sonorous decadent sinuous sensual cultivated relevant capable masterful effortless beautiful bounteous glorious luminous formidable powerful lavish rhythmic facundity
falls flat on its face
in the sad, halting inelegance
of an uncouth mute in awe
---

Time for bed. Going home tomorrow. I'm sure I'll have something doubly wistful and melancholy contrived by then. Aren't you excited?