portion of the artwork for Elizabeth P. Glixman's poetry

These are the things no one ever told me about my dentist
Elizabeth P. Glixman

“A tooth is a yurt
clothed with white enamel
to keep in the heat
Large blown up models of small enamel yurt
teeth sit in the Alaskan tundra glistening
People live inside and cook fish.”
—Dr. It’s Dam Cold in Alaska, D.D.S.



My first dentist who was my father’s paper
boy was an alcoholic
I never knew until he died
My new dentist is an Eskimo
He likes the idea of making
small domiciles in his patients’ mouths
He likes to keep
off the chill of winter on people
Here is another fact about my new dentist
He goes on astral trips
They alter his visions
He still does a bang up job
with root canals and fillings
He is a shape shifter
he can be in many realities
simultaneously
Even though he knows teeth are
not yurts and no people
live in them in our mouths
in the year 2013
he wants to tell patients
about other worlds
His secretary warned him not to unless
he wants to be visited by the FBI
She told me because she knows
I think teeth are radio antennae
planted in people at birth


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 42 | Fall 2013