Sun is such a hard word, like a boiled sweet
in one of those round travel sweet tins
that nobody wants unless they’re sick,
those citrus colours: lemon, lime and orange
that even without tasting make your mouth water
to counter the churn in your stomach.

Sun is such a hard word, with its ‘s’ and ‘n’
that could have an ‘o’ or an ‘i’ slotted between
for that Donnian pun or a postlapsarian chime
making it harder to give birth to or acknowledge,
spat out in a sibilant spray of spittle
ending in bright, shining negation.

Sun is such a hard word, once part of Microsystems
swallowed by Oracle, its SPARC processor in LEON
designed for space use, a fully open-source
implementation that neither you nor I
can understand, the most likely meaning:
cuddles are drying up like the sun in a data lake