Teeth

written by: May Swenson

published in: The Nation, 11 March 1978

Teeth are so touchy. They're part of your skeleton.
Laid out on the dentist's couch, you're being strummed.
Still vibrant. For how long? You're shown an X-ray

of the future: how the lower jaw has wandered away
into a neighbor's lot. The fillings glitter,
but it's glowworm's work by now.

A skull white as enamel,
the fontanelle's fine stitchery can be admired.
Does it remember being covered

with scraggly hair, like a coconut?
Bald as a baby, and with one wide bucktooth left,
you have the upturned grin of a carefree clown.

So you drool and spit up. That's only
temporary. There'll be just one big cavity soon.
You'll be dry—yes, dry as a bone.