the teeth dreams have returned like specters on the horizon, carrying dusk on their backs and calling up the vestiges of forgotten mornings when my belly was round with a growing girl and my mind was heavy with doubt. in one, my teeth came out in oddly attached rows, like corn cut from the cob in the seconds before it falls to the plate; neat and connected like beads on a string. in another, my tongue wiggled loose the four in front with such ease that I awoke with tears in my eyes, certain only a lick would shamefully reveal only raw gum. they came nightly then, and I shook awake with prescient visions of looming schisms. 

months of lucid chaos entangled my sleep like shackles, whispering of disaster to come, and twirling my sweaty curls around skeleton fingers. in that season, I rolled onto my side and surveyed the scene, paralyzed with consideration and unsteady in my guts. I am no longer so timid a soul inside that I tremble when change comes to my door, and in the mornings now, I know that each ping of ivory falling in a dream world is the shedding of some obstinate abiding element I have struggled to discard.

for many days, I've searched for more decorative, heavier words to trim the edgings of this, but I have come to find comfort breathing into the truth: some moments of womanhood are laced with all the fancy they need, and I ought to feel the stillness of trusting that. I have embraced - wickedly, wildly, and with joy - the ever-changing life we lead, and my cluttered mind will one day anticipate my charging heart, and the deep down fears will fade. until then, I remain toothless in sleep, and gnawing at the waking world.