Poetry

By Mariel Gousios

I hold my arms out palm side 

Open, 

A slit going down  

From shoulder to 

Finger tip. 

Peek inside and see 

A mush of flesh and bone. 

See teeth line 

The perimeter 

Of the crevice, 

A mixture of molars 

And baby teeth. 

Not sharp enough 

To capture prey. 

But they still chew 

And bite the same, 

In an attempt 

To puncture skin. 

To stab and cut and sting.  

They cannot kill, 

They cannot end the ongoing 

ring. 

But they can hurt 

And sometimes that is enough 

To soften  

But not kill.