An Ode to my Uvula
Published in
1 min readFeb 2, 2016
You hang there in your slimy cave
Like a slippery pink stalactite
Sometimes your soft tissues
Inflate and swell and block my throat
Meaning I can’t drink
Or eat
Or breathe
I wish you would stop doing it
Aren’t you happy
Living in my mouth?
You pesky little ceiling grape