She
is throwing
her head forward, connecting sharp teeth with soft
drywall, gouging off the decade-old green and white paint
that you watched your mother sponge
onto the walls,
walls whose bones
are beginning to show –
Handsaw teeth dig wells
into the wall,
wells like the emptiness between ribs,
wells that fill
to overflowing with bubbling
saliva, dripping
to the floor.