I dream of sounds that burst
into words when bitten,
words like:
blintzes
risotto
arugula
bouillabaisse;
sounds we swirl
on our tongues, savoring
their complexity;
words that bubble
and boil until they thicken,
and are ready to be poured
onto the page.

I dream of sounds served
as a main course, garnished
with sprigs of metaphor,
rosettes of alliteration,
julienned enjambment;
a feast of words that beckons:
Come and partake!