tiny white bombs

sometimes 

i can’t take it

i get so 

paranoid.

not about epidemics

cell phones and brain tumors

a husband killing his five children

his wife

himself

but about the

dearly beloved,

we are gathered here

today’s.

not the thieves

the people after your money

your sex

your youth

not about someone taking

what is mine

nothing is mine

and you can’t take anything

of importance anyhow.

but my teeth

I fear my gums are

pulling a w a y

from my teeth

as the ocean pulls away

from the sand

as children pull away

from hugs

and kisses

as you pull away

from yourself.

sometimes

i fear they will pull away

and pull away

until my teeth

are set free

from my mouth

dropping

like tiny white bombs

to the floor

to the back of my throat

into my stomach, perhaps

into my own hands.

the ones that are left will

wear away

getting smaller

and smaller

every

day

until they eventually grind

to dust

to nothing.

sometimes

I can’t take it

I get so

paranoid.

 *an original poem written about a year or two ago