Don’t breathe too hard,
the air might infect
your numbed gaping mouth,
sneak in some fleshy cavity
and die,
the stink emitting deathly bile
that seeps through gauze,
onto tongue,
down throat,
tormenting tastebuds,
filling cheeks with sick rot
until some frightening tool,
some cold industrial instrument,
comes along to rip
the defective suture from your gums,
relieving your jaw of its ache,
your mouth of its stench.
And blood—
sweet warm living blood—
replaces vile secretion,
and the crusted yellow stitch
lies there alone on a steel table.