teeth

A Poem by Hermione

I wait and
he comes, calling
my name
both syllables
wrapped tight around his chipped teeth
I count his smiles
and she one of my own
And we dance like two skeletons
rhythm beneath our carefully constructed faces
I laugh, he laughs
and my insides may have this dance
He sees my eyes
apparently, I
have left them unlocked
And he turns, turns, turns
and there he goes.
I call his name
one syllable
wrapped tight around my throat.