Freckled Eureka

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 13, 2018

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Submitted: June 13, 2018

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Freckled Eureka

 

I brush my teeth with such force

That the bristles remain bent 

My submissive nylon subjects,

Frozen in perpetual bows. 

I attempt to conquer my plaque, 

My filth, 

Myself 

With each morning ritual. 

I aim to be cleansed 

And porcelain-cold. 

scrub, 

And scrub, 

And scrub my gums raw. 

I comb, 

And smooth, 

And deodorize 

Yet the faintest scent lingers 

Of skin and pain  

That cannot be washed away, 

And I am reminded that I am made

Of fleshy warmth, 

And I stutter, 

And spill, 

And slip,

And scrape,

And my body comforts me 

With coagulated cushions, 

And I realize  

There is a reason 

We all look a lot like 

People. 


© Copyright 2018 Heather Renea Teague. All rights reserved.