Rooted

A TOOTH CAN GROW in a heart: I learned this from the Internet. It is true that when I investigated further, I found that hearts are one of the last places teratomas grow; these tumors containing scraps of hair, bone, and enamel are far more likely to emerge in the ovaries, for example. But I still wake in the middle of the night certain that this ache in my chest is the deep-dug root of a stubborn tooth, one that has resisted orthodontia and the professional aspirations of the middle class bourgeoisie, where I otherwise reside. This tooth has kept me simultaneously grounded and stuck to the ground. And as I clunk about my darkened house, looking for a place where I can still my anxiety enough to calm myself for sleep, I keep stumbling, mentally, on this misplaced tooth and its metaphorical implications until, at 4:15 am, I am certain that the impending loss of my parents’ home in southwestern Ohio will be the thing that finally splits this root in two, flooding my internal organs with a bacterial sea from which I will never recover.

think about when I think about where I am from crinkles when you take a step. It’s a maple root curving across a muddy path, last year’s leaves on one side, a delicate hasp of baby hair grass on the other. It’s snails in the weeds, chiggers in the lawn, limestone paving stones baking in the sun. It’s the rainy day my