It’s been Thursday for awhile
And I have too much to do so
I’m thinking of
Every baby tooth I’ve ever held. Thinking of the way I pulled them all out myself.
A meeting of premature teeth
and eager hands
because it felt good to hold
A body between two fingers.because I was never
Good with anticipation.
Every tooth left
with a pool of blood
Gathered in my gums
As metallic on the tongue
as the screws my father
Would leave around the house.
So I slept with a hand
Under the pillow
With slowed breaths and squinted eyes .
Waiting to catch a father in the act
Yet only waking up
To sweaty palms
And coin-oiled fingers.

And there are some nights that I get nothing done
Restless in bed,
I bury my hands under my pillow
And remember that somewhere There is a pile of my bones.
off-white molars collecting dust in a corner
Holding childhood
Stripped away like apples
From a tree.
Every small tooth a time capsule
Of a girl who hadn’t yet
Learned to wait.