~ in the neck is low tech, through the heart is high art ~ |
| Like me, my teeth are crooked, never braced against imperfection, small & discreet, liable to grind at night & break, in my dreams, shatter like glass, splinter like ice Like me, my teeth are a white imperfect, no one colour, nothing supreme or pure & not a uniform, matching set, twenty glacial erratics quietly tearing flesh & bread. Unlike me, I take care of my teeth, in the chair, twice a year, tuned out to the buzz of the scaler or drill, insurance against future pain, shatter or splinter to hamper a smile. Like me, my teeth don’t seek attention. Like me, my teeth may say “bite me”. Like me , like my teeth - ![]() |