Cavity

The chair tilts back until my blood

runs heavy in my ears.

He says the word like a command

and the lamp burns away the ceiling.

The latex glove tastes like bitter powder

pressing down on the hinge of my jaw.

Everything I haven't said

feels crowded in the back of my throat.

I stare at a small paper cup

filled with chalky, pink water,

waiting for the drill to find the soft part

where the rot has settled in.