Transmute

Photo by Angel Luciano on Unsplash

My cavity is full of moths.
There’s no more space for words
to fill. I tell them to stop pestering me.
Add more cotton to stop the bleed,
but there’s no gauze wide enough
to connect the tissues.

Open the window, they say, but nails
appear from nowhere and everywhere,
closing the panes of my mouth. The
tongue is too mighty for me to wield,
soft gums only serve to remind that
they are no home for such a weapon.

The teeth offer safe refuge, and
sometimes I even mean it when
you see them trying not to break
into gravel like the rest of me.

Thoughts drop like flies into
my honeyed throat, never to see
the light of day with incandescent eyes.
On trial for many injustices, I have
the right to remain silent, my sentence
written in corners of my eyes
where a smile once danced.

Until I morph, and rise, again.