An Ode to Kanji

Turmeric pickling in the sun
Glowing with secret warmth.

Hand-pounded mustard
Burning fire in my throat.

Little tiny flecks of chilli
Dangerous heat of passion.

Floating in your cage of glass
Reflecting the dimming sun
Watched by eager eyes awaiting the turn of shade that is your zenith,
And my goal.

Bitter, sharp, pungent
Lovechild born of stolen sunny moments in winter.
Kanji of a dozen tiny suns
Soft sponge exploding love in my mouth.