My father kept my baby teeth

In a clear plastic tube in his sock drawer.

I found them and split them open

With a flathead screwdriver

When I was nine.

He did not raise his voice,

He just looked sad.

I think he knew that

In my growing up

He would have to watch me

Destroy the girl he loved

And learn to love a new one

Over

And over

Again.

—-

…some poem I wrote or something.