Poetry to Grind Your Teeth Over

What have you been dreaming about lately? A common image in dreams is teeth. Dream experts say there is an abundance of meaning behind these nocturnal film festivals starring your pearly whites. Dream of losing your teeth? Yes, that’s freaky. But it’s not uncommon. Some scientists of abnormal psychology wonder if dental anxiety in dreams can symbolize death anxiety, fear of exposure, how others perceive us and terminal illness.

The human mouth has 32 permanent teeth. The word tooth is used in botany to describe a “a small, marginal lobe.” And as you know, dead bodies can be identified by dental records and that is why your dentist tells you to brush, kids.

With all these toothy possibilities, it isn’t hard to incorporate poetry. Gargle heavily with words, fill every cavity with the sugar of poetry. Floss with a string of pentameter — 32 lines in all. Today’s poems are brought to you by the number 32 and the word “tooth.” Clench all 32 of your teeth and brace your jaw for the latest from 32 poems, a journal that publishes poems within that two digit constraint.

– Lori Huskey

99°

by Rachel Richardson

Mustn’t there be a hole-
somewhere, in all
this heat?
A mouth
of rain that unhinges
its jaw?
Untamps
the frog’s defeated
tongue?
Bids the dog rise
from his belly in dirt?

Someone, open
the chambers.
Walls
lurch against their own
doors.
The trestle
moans under, under
with the train.

Let the minute hand
unfasten itself.
Jars
not covet the ground.
Beget the jellies
back into juice.
At least
let the livestock sleep.

***

Sharks’ Teeth

by Kay Ryan

Everything contains some
silence. Noise gets
its zest from the
small shark’s-tooth-
shaped fragments
of rest angled
in it. An hour
of city holds maybe
a minute of these
remnants of a time
when silence reigned,
compact and dangerous
as a shark. Sometimes
a bit of a tail
or fin can still
be sensed in parks.

***

A Little Tooth

by Thomas Lux

Your baby grows a tooth, then two,
and four, and five, then she wants some meat
directly from the bone.  It’s all

over: she’ll learn some words, she’ll fall
in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet
talker on his way to jail.  And you,

your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue
nothing.  You did, you loved, your feet
are sore.  It’s dusk.  Your daughter’s tall.

_______________________________________

Video: Poetic Teeth