Teeth

Ill comply, ill apologise, im ing tired I’ll hold your hand in mine, resigned, fingertips when i dont exist Palm to palm on a good day, a lovers loss, no pilgrims kiss A tragic play, no exit left. Hospital selfies, WhatsApp messages Secrets, silences, financial deposits, zero context Feet in my mouth on designated public paths My teeth, picket fences that need knocking down Tonsils overbearing fools that cannot read the room That weren’t invited anyhow. Seven molars, roots like weeds Curiosities Photos of roadkill on disposable film A mausoleum of moths and cuckoo bees My rotten teeth in matchboxes my dad always set aside for me A small kid, with a big mouth Already half empty Childish bubbles, slaughtered Born from soap and water Joy, a moment, nothing after A blade of grass A concrete corner The banality where small things falter