THE BROKEN TOOTH
The Broken Tooth
I don’t know when a tooth will crack
Although I know it will because
I know what is becomes what was,
For alongside a mansion stands a shack
To crawl into when luck has burned
The mansion down with all the staff.
I don’t turn down the chance to laugh
At winter when the season’s turned
The golden birch leaves switching
In the strong blue wind of late fall
To white boles scratched in granite
The black twig tips twitching
Against the layered sky in a scrawl
So clear and absolute, as if demanded.
Thank you.
amazing