Jawbone Lisp 2

Each morning wake
to find the teeth maligned.  The wisdom
teeth stopped growing at age twenty nine.
The pain subsided and a new road was in
with leather jacket, collar up, muscle car with fins.

Numbed out for weeks and a bandage round my 'ead.
"No, I have not yet got out of the damn bed!"
Reminded, should I have been paid for the
tracks that were road to side walk laid
I might be a rich fuck instead of slayed;

instead I mouthed off and gave up the tic tacs;
dentist paid.  Not that squirrely.  Not that hurly.
Blind shot and my evening ended early.

Each morning wake,
at least the pain is gone.

Reminded, eating cereal
of what went on.

The jawbone healed up okay.  The pain I went through
resetting it with my own hands was worth it.  I don't owe
hospitals anything.  Every spat and pat of butter blood
into the toilet flushed and back to bed, bandage back
in place was worth it.  Every sneeze and cough that
was brushed off instead of telling friends how much it
fucking hurt to open my eyes absolutely worth it.  I

re set my own damn jaw.  Re lived the night and the gnaw.
The hours, days, weeks, months, and finally got back to
a place where I could yawn without bursting to tears
immediately.
A pain I never saw
coming.  A pain that was months long
humming.
Aye
aye
aye

aye

aye, dog.

Can we split that sandwich?

Jawbone Lisp

My mouth-guard used to fit before my jaw fractured.

I remind myself of poor decisions and great decisions

without it.  My memory begins with a seventh time

brushing on the day.  My old strokes make no sense,

my toothbrush crossing from upper to lower instead

of crossing the tops and bottoms the way they should.

I am okay with that.  I am okay with this.  The new

world to live in.  Leave it all behind to spite

the new way biting into anything brand new to me.

Three millimeters off.  Impossible to correct.  Years

ahead before they wear down to an even set.  Okay

is the best that will be done.  The best that can be

until we can forget.  The new new.  The new you.

Ode To Friendship

My teeth do not align
the way they were born to be.
My jaw is made of glass
wrapped in gauze with
rivets through and through.
My knuckles are knit
tightly, cotton and tape and rice glue
stuck between fingers.
A few gaps are filled with gravel,
a few filled with spit and snot.
 Tape wraps around my wrists.
Rope wraps around my ankles.
Lead hangs about my shoulders
to slow me down to your speed.
Fire comes from my ears.
Steam comes my mouth.
Teeth blare loud enough
to give the blind sight,
to make the deaf cry.
We exchange footprints along the
guides.  Scent and sent and scent again.

Best of five.  Best of ten.  Best of sixty one.

Wiped sweat from above,
touch gloves,
you will die.