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by Trisha De Gracia

It's like that old iconic scene in Hamlet.

Pocked and pitted like sponge from some deep
underwater darkness there are
spaces where your teeth had been
and where disease had wrought them out
like sticking corks
like rusted nails.

Teeth that used to nourish you
or maybe nip a nape or
gnaw a fingernail in times of great
anxiety or still a tongue or

This is how I'm coming
to know you.


Author's Note: Forensic Osteology.

Posted on 05/23/2012
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Rachelle Howe on 05/24/12 at 06:54 PM

Wow. Exactly a nugget I needed.

Posted by Joe Cramer on 05/24/12 at 10:39 PM

... excellent.....

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