Listerine

Conventional mouth wash,
spearmint preference,
swishing it had never happened,
forgets that mourning breath.

Reaching where old brushes couldn't,
tidal waves of cleansing
gush over filled cavities,
a temporary fix of
freshening dignity.

Not returning to where one's been,
rather, masking what always is, though.

It's the food that leaves what rots your teeth,
and the brush that cleans it up.
It's the Listerine that fills what the brush missed,
but it's the water that never was
a culprit.

Of water,
erosion of your gnashing bones,
like a stream smoothing stone,
is the only plausible effect.

Rivers, a beautiful blemish anyway.