Won’t you try licking all your smudgy pride
With a deciduous tongue hanging from a tree?
Won’t you now for a year sit, milking your sexy dreams
With a temporary mother sucker whisking bloody cream?
Won’t you also cry with a trillion tears sliding on enamel roads
Finally learning Primary Time has no speeding gears?
Won’t you go at last to that old tooth doctor of fate
To be identified, cleaned with silver tools, and pay?
I would kill my spirit knowing all these,
Kill it with a reborner knife standing upside down on my double root
If I learned about me, despite my hollow hope,
that I have always just been a toddler’s baby tooth.
