Mouth by Jamaal May

Yours is no longer good for tearing flesh from flesh
or cartilage since they wired it shut because you couldn’t
keep it closed after a sucker punch broke it open because
you couldn’t keep it closed. But you mumble
about liking the soup, ramen noodles without the noodles,
the sound jello makes when it sluices between teeth and metal.

                                       ✖

Mine is becoming a trap for what I don’t say. What is bitter
choked down but no sweeter spit up, all copper
and slime, chipped from a rotted tooth, is spit,
blood, blood and spit. I’m afraid speaking will splinter
into a confession of how I like the muffled sea
of your voice, your jaw stilled by rigging.

 
 

Upcoming in Jamaal May’s new collection, The Big Book of Exit Strategies
Published in the October 2015 Issue