We leave Tom’s just before midnight and catch the #46 back to my place. We’re sitting there, snoozy after wine at the party and that quick sprint to the bus stop. I turn around to tell Kristen something and I notice a partial set of dentures on the floor under a seat across the aisle.

steamy summer night slips of potato skin

Oh my god, there are teeth over there. We’re seized by uneasy laughter, pausing to imagine what might have caused someone to lose their teeth on a bus. It’s just a lower set, so they probably didn’t fall out of a mouth since we assume that only happens to uppers. Maybe they leapt out of a pocket or purse, unwrapped?

the snapdragon spits out a bee

Since it’s carnival week all over Italy we wonder if this might be some part of an exquisite costume. Not likely; too many snaggles and stains. Besides, this is a full horseshoe-shaped gum. No room for anything beneath.

final harvest the milk teeth under his pillow

We don’t know how to say dentures in Italian so can’t even notify the bus driver. Nor can we keep from staring as people get on and off the bus without noticing these babies yawning up at them. The next stop is ours and we flee the scene.

the number of swallows it takes naked truth

Lorraine A Padden

is an award-winning poet whose haiku appear regularly in notable journals and anthologies. Her work has garnered honors from Tricycle Magazine, The Haiku Society of America, and the Tokutomi International Haiku Competition, as well as multiple Touchstone Award nominations from The Haiku Foundation. Her haiku will be featured in the upcoming 2023 release of the highly acclaimed New Resonance Anthology that showcases emerging voices in English-language haiku. Her debut collection of haiku and related short forms, Upwelling, was published by Red Moon Press in 2022.

Author’s website: https://www.lorrainepadden.com/