A centipede is crawling in the mouth
Of a toothy grotto, eating corrupt
Remnants of words, which were left
When I murmured last night
Beside your left ear.
Hundreds years later,
Bubbling worms will search among
The same rocks for something bitter
Or something sweet.
Maybe an archaeologist
Will collect my skull and brush my teeth
Gently to discover human’s secrets,
Just like you kiss me.
But right now, I stand in front of a mirror,
Looking myself brushing my teeth tediously
With a snaky toothbrush in and out
The beautiful white foams.
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