Dropping Teeth by Janée J. Baugher Well after she had done it, friends asked had I kept my dog’s baby teeth. No one had told me what to look for. So now, when I read a Mary Oliver poem about her dog, or visit someone who rattles her fido’s tiny canines in a glass jar, I wonder where else I failed. Sure, I was riveted by the self-assuredness of new teeth pushing through clean red gums, but I never considered what made room for that growth, the shards of life like a fence raised over night. And now I’m on my hands and knees about the apartment, searching for the last vestige of Sadie’s puppyhood and things that slip though my fingers. I’ll look for it next time – another cycle of me with a puppy, me staring squarely at her, waiting for tough white things to fall from her mouth like a simple answer.

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Santa Fe Literary Review 2014