mouth in mouth

There at my throat back, venus fly trap sprouts.
Noticed when I woke to teeth grinding, my night ritual. 
But this time, a sour bug taste instead of iron grit. 

A buzzing glimmer, then
My mouth zapped shut inside my mouth. 
Teeth under teeth.

I pressed inside at long needles stabbing my finger, clamping down.
Stinging blood on my prints, jerking away. 

Afraid of the mirror but too curious to avoid.
A shower to clear head, wash face, keep jaw closed.

Wiped fog off glass, plucked brows and brushed hair,
But to clean teeth, I had to open.

And inside, this monster plant glaring whites open for a brush too.
I snapped my clamp back shut, resigned to silent halitosis.

Photo by Jeffery Wong on Unsplash.