Wonder where they all go:
an incisor stuck in saltwater taffy,
a canine lost in playground gravel.
Wiggle, squeal, bash, and yank
every one from the gums.
They are live things stained
with blood candy Coca-
Cola, the holes in a smile,
the thirty horses are calico ponies
on that red hill, the runts shot
early while stamping, champing,
then standing still in photos
at seven, ten, and twelve
milk cans knocked out at the fair,
piano recitals with black keys,
trick-or-treating as pirates and witches.
The gaps are there, but only the lucky
one sits in a round wooden box
marked Baby’s First that rattles
when it’s picked up (and no one
picks it up). Wisdoms are the last to go
and ain’t that shame? The Fairy flies
around her mountains of molars
and bicuspids, cackling,
And they give them away for quarters!
Quarters!
M.C. St. John is a writer living in Chicago. His works have been published in After Hours Press, Maudlin House, Chicago Literati, and Unbroken Journal–the last of which nominated his poem “Telling Stories” for a Pushcart Prize. His short story “The Silver Family” was recently collected for the 2016 Science Fiction Anthology by Word Branch Media.
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–Art by Menerva Tau
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