2 June 2008 | Vol. 8, No. 2

A Tooth, A Child

Which one did you lose? Point to the black

cavern, sucked empty by the cell in need

of bones. And what else

did she thieve of skin stretched like loose

linen, and blood

turned water? Every gem plucked and reset

in a fresh crown. And now from without

she plunders still—not only the breast, heavy

purse of stolen bread

and window-ledge pies, but also the curl

of black hair you

used to tuck behind your ear, and the gaze

you signaled your husband to bed with. What justice?

What court of animals would sentence such crimes, or

loves displayed diagonally,

a longing unbreachable?

About the author:

Karen Lepri's work appeared in Best New Poets 2006. Her historical writing was published in Yards and Gates, a history of women at Harvard. Karen works as an editor in Boston and has a food blog called The Urban Kale.

For further reading:

See the complete list of work by Karen Lepri at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 8, No. 2, where "A Tooth, A Child" ran on June 2, 2008. List other work with these same labels: poetry.

42opus is an online magazine of the literary arts.

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