a final split

I sit here typing with the taste of blood in my mouth. I've been to the dentist today and my split tooth is finally gone. Well, gone from my mouth. I still have it, for the moment, in a small plastic bag.

Coming home in the taxi tonight, I though about a poem I wrote a couple of years ago, that appears in my latest book:


I have eaten words
all night for years
splitting bone and lies
enamel dreams.

My bruised canine
is stitched behind my face.
Count them! Three knots
above the root
of ink and troubled pitch.

Tremble, mouth-bitten desire
pulped fantastic
on night's ink
where fancy creeps.

My wolf vision
now spit and listerine
blood burning
codeine prey in throat.


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