Teeth

I slipped.
Is that my face on the floor?
Nose smells the floor
mouth feels the floor.
I tongue my front teeth
fail mid-lick.
Gone.

No more open mouthed laughs
or hands free talking.
Mouth hides behind fingers
cries.

Later, the bathroom is red eyed quiet
I hold a glass of teeth shards,
my mouth in bits.
Chink

Hold it.
Just don’t smile,
I smile 
Two front teeth, half of what they were.
Sharp, slanted
dead.

I water my throbbing stubs with milk.
Feel the sting but I’m greedy
waiting for Spring,
and the hope that they’ll grow back.