Keeping the
Pieces that
Fell Out

Matthew Moniz

Your mom probably has a baggie of your baby teeth
forgotten in the back corner of a drawer somewhere.
She wanted to believe in magic, so she swapped
a few nickels and some sneakery to hang on
to the you who you were. You wanted to believe in magic,
so you took the trade. The teeth were lost. The money
was good. And you were proud of your mismatched mouth.
She collected the complete set of dental mementos,
hoping they would speak to her the way you used to.
She clung to her calcified memories – the teeth
that grew inside her, the mouth she brought to her breast.
But she outgrew the need for them just as you did.
Now the pile of teeth likely lies tucked away in a place
darker and drier than a mouth, shifting unseen in the plastic
whenever she goes to grab some socks.