cw: parental death
Last summer, I thumbed through
old photos while my father’s breathing
chainsawed from the corner. Until 
the braces came off – three years 
of bands and headgear, my jaw expanded,
the shark rows of teeth reduced
and realigned to the white picket
fence in my mouth – I didn’t smile, 
every photo a tight-lipped exposition.
My parents’ wedding photo watches
my father reach for breath. He too
is tight-lipped. After the wedding
my mother took him to the dentist,
his first in his 24 years. They excavated
his mouth, pulled the rot from his skull,
and handed him porcelain to anchor
his smile. When I got braces it was
my father who drove me an hour each
way, his dedication to my mouth
a desire to not grow into him. As he lies
dying we leave his dentures in, even 
though he can no longer chew or even
swallow, the morphine absorbed
through the soft flesh of his cheek. 
Before they reduce his body to ash,
they remove the placeholder in his 
mouth. His smile watches as the flames
catch, consuming every last bite of him.
​​
Courtney LeBlanc is the author of the full length collections Exquisite Bloody, Beating Heart (Riot in Your Throat), and Beautiful & Full of Monsters (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press). She is also the founder and editor-in-chief of Riot in Your Throat, an independent poetry press. She loves nail polish, tattoos, and a soy latte each morning. Read her publications on her blog: www.wordperv.com. Follow her on twitter: @wordperv, and IG: @wordperv79.
header image: umanoide via Unsplash