My teeth do not align
the way they were born to be.
My jaw is made of glass
wrapped in gauze with
rivets through and through.
My knuckles are knit
tightly, cotton and tape and rice glue
stuck between fingers.
A few gaps are filled with gravel,
a few filled with spit and snot.
Tape wraps around my wrists.
Rope wraps around my ankles.
Lead hangs about my shoulders
to slow me down to your speed.
Fire comes from my ears.
Steam comes my mouth.
Teeth blare loud enough
to give the blind sight,
to make the deaf cry.
We exchange footprints along the
guides. Scent and sent and scent again.
Best of five. Best of ten. Best of sixty one.
Wiped sweat from above,
touch gloves,
you will die.
