-- did you know there’s pulp in your teeth?


You placed a shell in your mouth and I couldn’t tell if what I heard next was the texture of your teeth filmed over after immediate wake up morning sex
or the shell on your tongue.
I imagine both could be bruising in gouging out a reason for themselves to exist in parallel --
one another.

You said you felt a pain in your cheek. I didn’t ask which one because I knew either side of the face would do.


I never knew spit could be territorial until I kissed you.


        Soil sounds quite well until you make it soiled. Milk. Sheets. Orgasms. 
        I think you soiled inside me. Developed into tiny holes.
        I never figured to quantify them, but now I speculate how many tiny little holes.
        How many of those holes others have come into in better ways . . .

        I suppose you were abundant in your own waves.