Let me preface this by saying I take good care of them.
Yet the yellow stains are building, no matter that I brush often.
Will you stare, but try to look away?
Maybe you’ll laugh or push some gum my way.
What about the snaggle tooth that sits just left off center
It probably makes you cringe when I smile.
And there’s a metal wire supporting the straightness better
Than my own mouth did for a while.
The permanent retainer it is called, like a bridge to teenage-hood.
Perhaps they’ll fall out one by one. And then I’ll be truly happy.
For if that occurs (and you may think this wacky)
I’ll finally get to choose the teeth
that crooked nature could not bequeath.
This poem above was written as a musical challenge to the song “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth” by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Check out the work of Dylan Hughes on the same song here.