pearly whites
by Audrey Colasanti
my father kept his children’s baby teeth in a broken spined box at the bottom of his sock
drawer there were seven children he had a lot of teeth strewn in with a mess
of coins tie clips & a silver throwing star the kind used by ninja’s in b movies
I did sneak peek into that drawer often transfixed by my father’s keeping of tiny teeth
he was not a toucher did not hug or kiss did not make breezy chitchat nor guffaw
with wide mouthed abandon one could say he was stern heart padlocked
key misplaced yet he kept our teeth
once a mother I too became a tooth collector each little nib of ivory that dropped out
of my toddler’s mouths as if these tokens would somehow preserve my children forever
where my father felt a need to hide the teeth of his most tender emotions I carried mine
one might argue too close to the gaping gums spilling the teeth out onto my palm
in the worst of moments fingering them around in little circles across my skin
putting them on my tongue & tasting their rusted blood I needed this my children
were still here still alive I had their teeth to prove it when I spit them back into my fist
& shook my wrist tempting the perfect roll of dice oh how I lucky I felt.
About the Author
Audrey Colasanti is a self-described 'outsider poet', having been - until recently - primarily self taught. Under the tutelage of poet Danez Smith in 2019, Audrey has completed her first poetry manuscript, 'green.' The poems in 'green' focus on the struggles of raising 2 children with serious health challenges; one with epilepsy, the other with a rare heart condition called
Tetralogy of Fallot. Although Audrey's story is unique in its specific details, it is universal in the unexpected heartaches that accompany parenthood (& the fears & depression we all face at some point in our lives).