Always the
same tedious comments from
the
kiddies: the eyes, the nose,
the great
big yellow teeth, always the
temptation
to break at last with
the bloody
ritualized script.
Oh, honey,
it’s just that Gran’s gums
have
receded some more, just feel
how loose they
are, hush, don’t even
get me
started, I’ve been
battling
the heartbreak of hypertrichosis
since I was
younger than you,
or maybe go
the jocular route, holy smokes,
I must’ve
put in Grandpa’s old dentures
by mistake,
silly old me!
Teeth,
teeth, teeth, yes, innocent child,
they’re
huge and they’re sharp
and they
stink of unflossed flesh, too true,
but you
needn’t be fearful, Gran isn’t
hungry,
dear, not the least bit peckish.
So lie down
here next to me and I’ll
tell you a
story about a sweet
young maiden
and her loving grandmother
while you
run your little fingers up and down
the length
of my scarred old belly.
