When I think of my mother,
she had no teeth at all,
soft juicy gums so pink, well,
a princess could dress in them for years,
no-one would bat an eyelid.

Nor did she, her eyes rigid,
never blinked one single time,
not according to witnesses,
swearing it on their mothers.

Slowly her lips slid back,
slowly that mouth rippled to a grin,
then flash!
The tongue darted out;
three women swooned away.

The ham sandwich,
ghastly pale under the spotlight,
had lain in patient wait,
perhaps some minor trembling in fear,
before that…tongue
(the imagination of it sickens me)
shot deftly to it, straight,
whipped the ham clean out,
a single swipe,
the bread…motionless.

The audience held breath;
uncertain and afraid,
the meat slice dangled helpless,
drooped from her mouth for three whole seconds
like the tail of a mouse half-eaten by the clever cat,
swishing like spaghetti under its own free will,
such abrupt slurp then vanished it at once;
crowd erupted in rapturous applause.


One thought on “Gums

  1. Pingback: Start Making Sense | edgeofthebellcurve

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