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.

---

 

The Summer heat has been making it difficult to sit down and write. Nowhere feels comfortable and I’m constantly shifting position to try and ease that sticky, gross feeling that comes with trying to do anything at all during hot, summer days.

I’d really love to hear people’s thoughts on this poem as it just sort of took shape this evening and I can very rarely tell if that makes it a good poem or a really bad one. Either way I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading/listening to it.