stella wang never had braces—her teeth were straight
& milky-white like tombstones
& i envied her. my teeth squatted in my mouth
like crooked strangers. so when we kissed one afternoon
in the girls’ locker room, i couldn’t help myself:
i licked the smooth indent of her molar, an arrow
of forbidden tongue. she bit down so hard
i almost cried. i never talked to her again.
what i would give to feel the tattoo of
her singing bite, her hot breath unsure
against my throat, that honeyed sting when i
realized that she wasn’t mine.