Page 174: Teeth by Tamar Lapin

My loves are like my teeth:
They stay in my mouth

A pretty smile
of two neat rows
of colors ranging
from after-the-dentist white
to coffee and cigarette stained

Straightened by braces at age fourteen
the retainers stayed stuck beneath.
At eighteen, one shifted in its spot,
turning slightly in broad view.

I tried to hide its crookedness
behind a red painted smile.

A girl once told me,
“My teeth are a spectrum.”
I spit back,
“How nice that must be.”

Now, I always make sure to
rinse and repeat
but some persistent stains remain.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s