Origami Words

You fold your words into origami
long before they pass
through the grotto of your mouth:
paper cranes and butterflies
flapping through tunnels and caves
and sticking to your palate
as once colourful thoughts dissolve
into flakes, pigments running together
until your tongue is dusted grey
and stalactites drip pulp,
pooling in acidic rivers
around the remaining islands
of butterfly wings, clustered
in their race to the exit,
tumbling over and under
and tearing themselves to strips
in a last attempt of linearity.