Sestina

I sunk my teeth
into my flesh
to stop a scream,
a sob caught in my throat,
eyes betraying the haze
and marveled at the wound.

It wasn't a grievous wound,
just meager marks of teeth
filling with a red haze,
the usual secretions of the flesh.
Racking at the back of my throat,
that god awful scream.

I supposed to myself that I could scream
and blame it on the painful wound,
So I cleared my throat,
fingers ripping at the flesh
to remove the mark of tell-tale teeth
betrayal of an emotional haze

Skin clouded with a bloody-haze,
another excuse to scream,
not being able to see the freckled flesh
for the weeping of the wound.
Clenched jaw snapped shut my teeth,
and unclogged my throat.

A hoarseness rasped in my throat
and the scream sounded through a misty haze
a poor mimicry of a scream
for a pathetic excuse of a wound
that matches perfectly this girl's flesh.

An unfortunate's flesh,
with a branded throat,
Occupational wounds
made in a post-coitus haze
to muffled screams
by stuffing the teeth.

A lady of the flesh, her past a festering wound
finds a momentary solace in a throat squeezed scream
Smiling with her teeth through the haze of release.