I found the pip between my teeth

an hour after the bitter bite

of garden currents

had faded from my tongue.



In the middle of a meeting,

too close between collegues

to spit or pick

the pith from my mouth.



Instead I chased it

from cheek to cheek

along the ring of my lower lip

to the hollow beside my molars.



The presenter lost his place,

tapped again at his laptop,

muttered a word ,

asked someone to call IT.



I swallowed by accident.

Choked,

drew a worried glance,

waved it away with a glass of water.



Outside the cleaner checked bins,

roll of bags at her hip,

quick, quiet between the desks,

she whisked any evidence away.