i can too easily feel my teeth rotting,
feel the pulp ache to die off and the enamel
begs to strip itself into the folds of my
cheeks. i can feel my teeth rotting from the inside
out. i am my mother’s son. that is a fact known:
that burning in my throat – heavy and hard,
that tug at my tear ducts – is the proof that cannot
be swallowed. and my mother and i do not cry and
we know that burn we know that burn like a
shame we know that burn bubbles up and over
into our teeth bubbles up and over through our
teeth, that acid burn bog swallows everything into
cankers and my fingers scrape through the rot,
nearly pull them from my gums. i
never know if i should try one last time to swallow
or rip my gums empty and raw.
Colby Meeks is an Alabama poet currently pursuing a Bachelor’s Degree in English at Harvard University. His work is often somewhere between Southern Gothic tradition and Emmylou Harris songs and can be found in yellow-bound journals and his website, colbymeeks.com