Poem On: Day 2

Totodile (#158)

A jaw was never kind. Every bite
contains a certain meanness: the love
nip, the sever of thread
that's long enough. Even in joy

some of us is only a tool. We warm
types teach this early, first teeth ungrateful
latching into the offered breast. My sweet
fossil in waiting, what does it mean to catch

and care and fight if there's no difference
between a friend and the next meal?