Passport Tooth


I asked the assistant if I could have the pieces of my tooth that the dentist just pulled.  She said I could as long as I didn’t touch them. I wondered why, but didn’t ask.  After all, it’s been in my mouth for almost 50 years.   I assumed it was just one of those medical safety precautions.

It was my first time to this office and everyone there was really nice.  The dentist was kind and did a very good job.  He had to break my tooth into three pieces to get it out.  Once again I was grateful for the invention of Novocaine.

When I asked, I wasn’t sure why I wanted the tooth.  But the feeling to have it  was so strong, I couldn’t resist it.

Later I thought how my tooth had done such a good job for so long.  And when it stopped doing that, it caused me face an old fear and brought up in me a strength I didn’t know I had.

My friend Athena called it Sacred.  Alchemy.   I think I wanted to honor it.  It’s more than just medical waste to me.

The ground is frozen now, but in the spring, I’ll bury it outside my studio.  I see it as a passport tooth.  Bringing me from one place to another.


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