baby rat teeth


I was sitting here talking to you like always.


My words felt heavy as they left my throat, they fell out like loose teeth when I opened my mouth and you cupped them in your hands.



I’m listening to you talk.



Your words don’t fall out - they glide to my ears. My tongue traces my mouth as you speak, running it over where my teeth should be. Usually they hurt, usually the back of my mouth is sore from holding on. There’s no gap in my jaw now - instead I find an extra row of teeth, tiny and crammed behind my grown up ones. Little tiny baby teeth.


Tiny, absolutely tiny, like a baby rat. Too small to hold anything, and only halfway across the front of my mouth.


How did I forget them? How could I misplace the pristine little teeth, forget the ways that I'm deformed? Mutant features of my body growing harmlessly gruesome out the side of my gums.


I woke up and brushed my baby rat teeth.

Last Night (I had a dream)

Last night I saw you. I had climbed into a deep dark hole in the earth. You
crawled in after me and sat in the depression of the ground beside me. You
crawled in just to say ‘hi.’

Last night I was in the magnolia tree with my little siblings and cousins again. We
pushed through the canopy of leaves and buds and seed cones and flowers and
circled the wide trunk, climbed into its lower branches, horseplaying with each
other, pretending this tent was a palace. I stripped the seeds from the cones just
to smell them and dropped them to the ground where the leaves rotted. I wanted
to eat them like they were pomegranates. Maybe they would let me stay in this
dream world for all the warm seasons.

Last night I called my mother. She said I would find my way out of this. I didn’t
really believe it but I chose to trust her - she was my mother, she bore me, she got
herself out. I thought if I never fully went home eventually I would find my footing
in the real world. I haven’t found out.

Last night I dreamt of dancing. My shoulders didn’t hurt and the weight of me
flew off my body with every movement. I brought energy into me as quick as I put
it out. My fire didn’t die and the wax didn’t burn away. The soot stains my
fingertips only until I run them under water. My breath catches and I catch it with
ease.

Last night I left the engine running. I let myself be awake until I wasn’t. I visited
myself with a plate of warm food. I can only see myself through my past and my
dreams but maybe that’s enough. It’ll have to be. Memory collides with fantasy
and I am always in the making.