Empty Sockets

I lost an eyelash today. It happens

all the time"loss

of moon shapes"curved slivers of nail clippings

and of lashes laden with parasitic mites and black mascara.

My skin, it sloughs off in microbes onto mattresses

and bath towels hung to dry above lost strands of hair

that wad and crawl away down into the drain.

The wastebasket that opens wide to cradle

snot-filled tissues and cotton swabs topped with brownish yellow.

It’s always happening"loss occurs from every orifice"

the unwanted, the wasted.

The monthly shedding of eggs, discarded yolks

that float in menstruation, and drop to their deaths.

The baby teeth that climb their way out, struggling

to cut through pink, supple gums,

to later be wiggled loose by bigger bully teeth.

The wisdoms that were yanked bloody from their constricted caves

to make way for molars and impending crookedness.

All this for not"all the chewing and grinding will turn them

to wooden nubs to rot and fall out, until my gums grow

over to cover the empty sockets.

I long for the missing"my shaved whiskers,

my hair trimmings, misplaced eyelashes, saline tears,

drools of spit, picked scabs, and filed fingernail dust.