not voiced

Your name
will not be voiced by me today,
an anniversary of sorts.
I will not let my tongue
evoke its panoply.

Your name
will not be mouthed by me
from dawn
to dusk
and I’ll not let it touch my thoughts,
or fill my dreams,
now husks,
from darkened sun to morning’s rim;

the lust of it, your name,
that sin upon my lips,
caressing me,
all sere this dunning year,
if spoken out,
will do me in.