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Toothless

Poetry & Prose | March 23, 2015

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.

Art by Eva Strauss.