Stories with Teeth in Them
Enamel; Or, My Father Propped His Head on the Discovery of the Wheel
I could smell horseradish and taste my palate. I couldn’t say pillow yet, but I could hear it. I could drag a pillow down the hallway like a cavewoman by the hair, a pillow cavewoman with pillowcase hair. My father took the cavewoman from my hands and dug her heels into her teeth.Dentin; Or, Before My Father Painted Everything Red
My mother painted everything green. She fell like a new form of old rain. My father danced beneath her with tongue exposed. He licked her pure bones. Then he licked his proud teeth.more at ... Andrew Borgstrom | Lamination Colony
