wait, not so quick

by MaKayla Allen

I worry I am losing teeth like in the dream I had where he said, “I love doing nothing with you,” during a conversation through one-way glass, and I watched my open-mouthed reflection experiencing that – all the enamel hunks dropping like a hail storm before the tornado that pulls up your across-the-street-neighbor’s house and tosses it out back. He presses up against my back when I am back in the bedroom after showering and have only found enough clothing to cover my lower half, he says, “Don’t get dressed so quick,” my first thoughts are of blank things – flower stems, new word documents, and what it will feel like when my wisdom teeth finally break their way in. How do you know your body is changing when you are constantly looking at it and they say paint on a wall never dries if you watch it like that?