http://archive.varsity.co.uk/693.pdf - p24, 'Caught Up in the Web'

Litro: http://www.litro.co.uk/2013/07/book-review-the-orphan-masters-son-by-adam-johnson/

Toothlessness Perhaps the breast was disappeared too quickly, anyway, I stayed orally fixated, my fingers never out of my mouth. Each tooth was touched a hundred times a day, sprung soldiers, each one weak. I had dreams I’d lose my teeth. Tar beasties, sucked down, swirled inside my mouth’s rough darkness, harsh as orange peel – I dreamed of a kiss so vast that we’d fuse like fish, enter the prehistory of kisses, tongues larger than night or water – My husband, we grew to be to be elderly. Each yellow peg fell into our shared sink, slowly, the blood palpable taste, moist time. Now wet as pulp or bog, the tongue lives alone – save you – pressing down sometimes in the darkness beneath my touch. Still alive, my mouth - Sometimes I think I hear it moan. Orpheus I After I’d hustled, somehow, my way through overdrafts and overtime, goat-sitting, busking on street corners – I drew quite a crowd – into the trans-continental-ticket bracket, packed my handbooks and mosquito nets, boarded at the Styx and sung the long ripped song of the aeroplane, a birdcall lost in chasing cloud, I landed slap-bang in the middle of...