The jut and cut of unripe pear
which clings in strings
around the teeth that
form these words,
strengthens the pulse, the pressure
pressing steadily there
in the boiling passion of the mind
(the third convolution behind the eyes).
This pear pairs with the pith
of tea bags, wrung and zingy,
to bite the brainstem and form
a budding flower with the digits
of its bloody jaw.
Its this flower you are reading.
Feel its heady scent