...the whole room swells
with the scent of cinnamon & desire.
How imprecise the smell of desire.
-Mathew Nienow, "Ode to the Belt Sander
To forge a word
which is not
to make it out of someone else's breath
to open up and give it a home
inside
to keep it unspoken among blankets
where there is no room for fear of pleasure
no room for thought
If anything, it would have to be the name of a scent
and of its alchemy
lavender turning into something incandescent and sharp
like cinnammon
or crimson red
or a thousand different glasses reflecting one same flame
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