Teeth
Ill comply, ill apologise, im ing tired
I’ll hold your hand in mine, resigned, fingertips when i dont exist
Palm to palm on a good day, a lovers loss, no pilgrims kiss
A tragic play, no exit left.
Hospital selfies, WhatsApp messages
Secrets, silences, financial deposits, zero context
Feet in my mouth on designated public paths
My teeth, picket fences that need knocking down
Tonsils overbearing fools that cannot read the room
That weren’t invited anyhow.
Seven molars, roots like weeds
Curiosities
Photos of roadkill on disposable film
A mausoleum of moths and cuckoo bees
My rotten teeth in matchboxes my dad always set aside for me
A small kid, with a big mouth
Already half empty
Childish bubbles, slaughtered
Born from soap and water
Joy, a moment, nothing after
A blade of grass
A concrete corner
The banality where small things falter
Copyright © Eileen Kenny | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment