39 this month
w/rotting molars
coffee & nicotine stained
incisors darker than my skin
every night death unflossing them
a little more
w/its rough ancient twine
i prefer to think of it all
as a little warm up before
it finally straps its black tourniquet
around my heart
cinches it just right
& there'll be no more losing teeth
they'll be safe in my skull
beneath the ground