Toothless
In dreams
I wrench my teeth from my skull.
It starts with a twist,
and ends with a pull.
Waking,
aching, I
look out through my fishbowl
as the world taps at the glass.
Afloat in my bowl,
in silence or in sound,
I hide my bleeding gums
with a closed-mouth smile.
I try to say hi in a
maybe-I-can-brighten-their-day sort of way
but the glass is too thick
and my words bounce back at me.
At night
I have no teeth left to pull
so I tongue the holes
left in my skull.