Teeth

 

Teeth

They sit in rows, not quite the pearly

white of childhood or abrasive cleaning.

In my dreams they are loose in the socket.

Not content to leave them alone, I prod,

wiggle, and wrench them, bleeding, from

their fleshy nests. Or by some unseen,

mysterious force, they are bashed out,

leaving only the gritty taste of enamel behind.

 

Reviews

[Deaths Cold Kiss]

this is a good write.... i like it very much