Lip

The tongue tentative at first
Browsing bumps and cracks;
Any imperfection.
There’s one just here, it reports,
Solitary on the plains of the lip.

Crag taken to the teeth in a dance.
Ushered gently by the tongue,
Snuggled in place, tucked into enamel
Tightly.
Gripped now by teeth.

Supported once by the suction,
Alone now. Dangling.
Until its own weight’s too much
And the long fall begins. Tearing off
Like a badly peeled orange.

A flush of red flows to fill the
fissure no longer veiled in skin.
They’ve bored too deep this time
But let geology take its course.
They’ll be digging again in no time.