into my mouth / the cave again 

my teeth grow skyward 
out of limestone sculpted by 
years of pounding rain. i follow 
the water down through the cracks 
& into caves where a river forms 
reptile-like & slithering. the way 
water is full of sharpness & the way
stone is easily convinced of death.
i lay on my back & feel my teeth 
turn into stalactites. they turn
orange without light to encourage
their off-white shade. i used to buy
teeth whitening strips before
i was a cave. before i was a landscape
i used to want to beautiful
& i would press fake nails 
onto my canines & i would 
drink liquid eye liner until 
the pathway down to 
the deepest catacombs was
black & blinking. all kinds of 
creatures live in the spaces between
each tooth. i feel them exploring
i tell them to enjoy the surface
before the rain comes again 
& washes everything away. how long
will it take to erode my whole mouth?
how many more threads of light
will find their way into my throat
to thrum like a trapped bird.
i do not want 
to hurt any creature. i only 
want company. the cave
is always swallowing. animal.
water. stone. the smooth skin
of the throat. the shuttering
of eyes worn away & turned
into divots in my face.
there is nothing that can't be
weathered. how my teeth could be
mountain peak in another face
but here i am as the cave & 
there are bats swarming between
drops of rain. but here i am 
as the cave & i want to swallow
something new like a wedding ring
or a head band or even a brooch.
something to remind me of 
being a little human.
how there was a cave a few blocks
from our church. how the cave 
was small but glistening
& inside i walked. swallowed.
i never walked out & my family 
stood tall & became stalagmites. 
became my teeth. i drum on them
with my nails. dull tambourine.
walking into the cave again.
walking into my own face.
i'm looking for them without
a flash light. with only 
my voice & my hands along 
the smoothness & maybe they
aren't here anymore. maybe 
the rain made smoothness 
of them too.