My teeth crumble
disease-gray gravel
embedded in wet
disease-gray globs—
the unset cement of
recurring terrors spat
into one of Dad’s coffee
stained handkerchiefs.
My jaw and right
cheekbone unhinge. Too
much loss. Too much loss.
Too much neglect.
Too much neglect. Too
many blows to the
little pink precocious
mouth.
-M.
