I wrote a letter to you on the back of my teeth
dipping the tip of my tongue into my saliva;
practicing my cursive in between the cracks
of my molars.
But when I sat down to transcribe the words
onto paper, they fell out of my mouth and
escaped through the open door on an east wind.
I’ve spent some time now looking for them;
rummaging through piles of forgotten memories,
delving into locked volts,
blowing the dust off of breadcrumbs ripe with mold.
I call out to them in the early hours of
morning; when my eyelids flutter
between dreams and consciousness,
and I can still smell the ocean brine
and taste the almond cardamom.
Non Epiphany 