Crisp

Crisp is onomatopoeic to me. The sound, the look, the feel – each play their part in making “crisp” crisp. Its brevity from the encompassing curve of the C through to the coda of the P, where all loose ends are tucked in, makes for a satisfying pop of a word. The beginning sound fills the mouth with busyness: “krrrrrrrr;” the middle of your mouth pulls the letters apart, your tounge conducting tartly with your palate, your throat constricting to coordinate with your lips to make the staticky shard of a sound. Next, “isssss” hisses along, your tounge stopping just short of whistling the glamour of the S. Finally, the curtail; “pah” a puff, a pert pulling of the rug out from under the lazy S sound, which would go on forever if not carefully watched.

The word, rolled around on the tounge, tastes like a cold apple bitten hungrily, like a sip of dry Champagne resplendent with bubbles, like a satisfying snap. It’s chaotic and smoothly inevitable, and over too soon.

Indeed, when “crisp” has been said, it’s thoroughly gone. There is no lingering sound on the air, nothing to assure that it has actually been said. It is a magic trick of a word. Said and unsaid at the same time, leaving only the feeling of being taken for a tumble and no evidence left behind.

This is my entry for the Daily Post one-word prompt: crisp.