There is a new wiggle

a waggle

a jiggle.

The smooth arc of white dentin

suddenly has an

unconformity

a thrust plate

a bump in the road of

growing up.

There is a little blood but

worse is the loss of permanence

of stability

of strength.

The body betrays us

insists on change

casts off parts

before we’re ready.

Every rite of passage

feels a little bit wrong

before you’re out the other side.

“It is an unusual feeling,”

Owen says with apprehension.

“What day did it first

happen to you?”