NaPoWriMo: A series of unlikely explanations

Your mouth is a sack of marbles
pulling a prized pearler
from your lips, it rolls
into the nearest earthen hole.

Many years ago a small seed
lodged in my throat, growing
thicker, in darkness now
I only speak in latin.

Teeth and tongue, repeat
lip and cheek, repeat
an army of minuscule muscles
struggling against silence