Wound

A cut
on the roof of my mouth–
to tongue it hurts.
I forgot the sweet
pain of reconnecting
tissue. The pearls
of bone beneath,
maxilla and mandible,
slivers of teeth you’ve loved.
Today I ate the leftovers
before they went bad.
Each bite stung.
I practiced swallowing
the ache with the taste
of your mouth,
          its dear milk.