Milk Teeth and Dentures
Vibha Rohilla

It popped out of my mouth
like a jagged pearl from an oyster,
into the palm of my hand. Shredder
of things once alive, now dead, now
once alive, now dead. All that chow
ate away at its roots. Ow-th.

I remember gnawing at ice when it
tore through the flesh of my gums, surging
out like a fresh spring sprout. Emerging,
it was attacked by sweet, tart, candies,
dotting it with holes and cavities.
Bubblegum flavored fillings on flint.

Waking up, finding a dollar bill
under my pillow from the Tooth Fairy
gave me a sinking feeling. Bury
it in the Earth instead of losing a piece
of yourself to green paper, I wouldn’t ceasey
to remind myself. Have good will.

I ran my tongue over the gaping hole
left by it, the loss of fleeting childhood,
slowly fading away for good.
The deception of strong milk teeth,
and the new permanent ones beneath.
My wide smile begins to shine as whole.

Now, I can’t remember if I ever loved
all those times I ate, chewing and not
stewing over the moment’s thoughts.
I miss biting into celery with a crunch
eating pita chips and crisp apples for lunch
munching on granola bars, toasted.

I’ve clenched it in my fist
to stop the memories from flying
away as I begin to decay. Lying
in a full glass on my bed stand
are dentures waiting to land
on the roof of my mouth as an assist.

I can feel my jaw moving but when
I run my tongue over the plastic, metal,
an unnatural sensation? I’ll settle,
for now. Return it back to the ground,
where soon all of me will be found.
It all started starting and ending, began

with that first tooth in my palm.

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