The Softest Bone

I was trying to explain the way I failed,

how the numbers didn't add up at the end,

and my teeth came down hard. I almost paled

at the metallic salt, the sharp, copper bend

in the middle of a sentence. It’s too big,

this muscle that sits in the dark and waits

for me to say too much. I want to dig

a hole for the words, but the body creates

its own interruptions. I can feel it now,

swollen and heavy against the back of my teeth,

a wet, captive animal that doesn't know how

to stay quiet. There’s a bruise underneath

the surface, a secret I literally bit into.

It tastes like a penny, like a cold, hard fact.

I’m standing there bleeding, wondering who

I was trying to save with such a clumsy act.