prongs of enamel,
stone fruit nestled in your
tender gingiva,
cleaving their way
into place.
swollen, slimy,
the strongest bones
forcing the weakest
flesh into deeper submission,
all for what?
a smile?
an easier chew?
a deeper bite?
your tear-stained face,
gnawing on finger tips
and frozen fruit teethers
praying prayers in baby babble
swallowing numbing salve
for any sign of reprieve,
of solace.
cherry red gums,
a deep ember,
a baby’s desperation, a mother’s pity:
a reminder that in this life,
even growing teeth is devastating.
