Sleight of Hand

I ask you to take a word
and hold it in your ear,
practice saying it in the mirror
with different expressions
on your face, accenting
each syllable up and down
a scale of notes, low to high,
from beneath the big toe
of your right foot to behind
the top edge of your left eyebrow,
listen to it hum from a stutter,
then watch it drop into a puddle
of milk, slow motion, bouncing
an echo off your tongue
to find its saltiness, its sweetness—
if it is a good one, it will have both—
then spit it into your hands
and roll it between your fingers
like a coin, playing music
on your knuckles, and if
when you rim it, it rings clear,
lay it gently on the window to see
if its colors blend with the rest,
and if it does, breathe deep
and if not breathe deeper
and then begin again.