Daring inhabitant of a confined space
bounded by what can bruise, slice
or even kill the organ — a bilobate, blind, mouthless moray
lurking in a shark’s maw, subsisting
on scraps gleaned from fangs
— darting between our incisors, canines, molars
with arrogant assurance. Or, because the tongue
is affixed to the floor of this slaughterhouse,
a blood-red sea anemone
without an oral fissure
waving among sharp rocks: a bifid flag of flesh
lurching and returning between white metal shards
mostly unscathed: snaps, whistles,
drone of the vibrating fabric
syllables of speech
and song
