A Poem to Stop Snoring

/ New Posture Workshops/

I snort myself awake at 2 AM.

 

I’ve dreamt my face into a snout,

A long face.

Had I been snuffling along a forest floor?

Rooting to find a forgotten breast?

 

Tapir, pig, jilted child,                    

My plastic face strains forward,

Towing its vault of angst and opinion.           

 

Tongue unmoored,

Gingiva aching;

Eyes, parched, blink in the dark.

 

I swallow:

Lick lips, summon saliva and swallow.

Epiglottis clicks into place as tongue seals against soft palate.

 

Lips, meeting, mirror the palate’s seal.

The oral cavern is now a pressurized chamber

Onto which a peaked roof cautiously settles.

 

By-passing nostrils, air finds a back channel,

A narrow, faster track to deepest lung.

Breath, no longer sought, is welcomed.

 

With each—now silent—inhalation

Palate broadens into a wide arch,

A portal for nourishment and prana.

 

Ahh, Diaphragm!

She can remember her rhythm.

 

Nostrils no longer flaring, cheeks no longer sucking,

My face melds into a shorter, wider template.

Fascial towropes within my cranium soften,

Making space for common sense.

 

Mandible, moored at cranium’s edge,

Grateful for peace,

Grows heavy with sleep.

 

Silky eyes, deep within their vessels,

Are shuttered at last.

© 2023 Mary Bond