You could say wisdom teeth

are the first instance

of seeds you sowed in yourself

  Springing

Each one a small birth

 

always starting

with stretching.

 

When a woman’s

molar’s split

her gums her

spit

begins to smell differently

 

Something in her

becomes charged

like a taser.

 

She’s assumed dormant

for someone else’s comfort

but is still

some whispering

lethal.

    This is what wisdom can look like

    A sleeping puma/Power

    An unflipped switch/Static/Electric elasticity.  

 

Silent springs make

everyone around her on edge

hot bothering and bent

She makes them think of sweat

Unconsciously drinking in

the sight of her

    The scent/The sense.

 

Suddenly everyone wants to taste her

even if she doesn’t know it

suddenly she wants to taste

herself

see what the buzz is all about

    Punch drunk.

    The nectar of it.

 

Puts the secret to her spice

in a box

locks it

    Eats the key.

 

This is when she calls

herself a Woman and means it

How she makes her sternum a steeple

A vessel vexed by a visitor.

 

She sees sex as a

 spell sees spells as a

      namesake her name the

            first song

              the Sun taught her

  The Sun?

 

Hot and bothering

the Moon all the damn time

Lessening shine

with blaring light as if

bright only bright

if he deems it.

 

So

she eats the sun

This is how she sharpens  her tongue,

how she turns black hole

back to star light again.

This is how she finishes

beginning and incites

end.

Waiting on a ledge

to lunge and

drag out throats with a crooked smile.


                     Wild.