A Long Goodbye by Lydia Armstrong

It was a slow extraction.

It was what I imagined it to be like

when my father said he’d pulled out his own tooth,

Ill-equipped and clumsy,

Blood on both our hands,

The kind of pain only whiskey numbs.

It came out like that rotten brown tooth,

Used to being this way,

The decay holding it in place like epoxy

The same thing that destroys it refusing to let it go.

 

 

 

 

Lydia Armstrong lives in Richmond, Virginia with her cat Birdie, and is very active in the area spoken word community. She collects bugs, drinks copious amounts of mint tea, and is currently working on a novel.



Leave a Reply