This Poem Has Teeth. A poem by Scott Waters

I find my son’s bicuspid
on my dresser

beveled little stone
yellow and off white
dried blood on the jagged

cairn of calcium
on the sandstone beach
of my palm

how did that tiny
flashing light
from 12 years ago
into enameled rows
planted in red plots
of nutrient-rich

how do any of us
from light
to matter
and back again

then I remember
there’s a killer virus
going around

and wash my hands.


I am a poet and songwriter living in Oakland, California with my wife and son. When I am not ducking killer viruses, I can almost always be found with a pen or guitar in my hand. More of my poetry can be read here.

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