My skull is feeling the back of my hand where a fever should be.
Like a stone wheel grinding rough wheat.
the loose molar on the right (facing out) makes a sound I find comfort in.
Root nerve fits rooted gum; the sex is in the swaying.
Finger and thumb and finger and thumb: this is the way the tooth bends
the truth bends the tooth bends
this is the way you end a marriage, a sentence,
Mouth blood tastes more red than body blood.
I dip my tongue, au jus.
Like regret, it’s already clotting. Like regret
it’s already cloth, gauzed.
Veronica’s Vail and Orthodontics.
I’ll make an appointment, Sure,
you’ve left me nothing
SEAN ROSS currently teaches at a small private school in Arizona. His work has appeared (among other places) in the GSU Review, GW Review, Mad Poet's Review, and Beacon Street Review. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.