The Teeth Pills by Jason Fisk

At the age of seven
I came home from school
with a bag that the local
dentist had handed out to
everyone in our class.
There was a toothbrush
and floss and pink chalky pills
that one was supposed to chew on
after they brushed their teeth.

My mother sat on the closed toilet,
in the mustard yellow bathroom,
reading the directions and watching me brush.
I brushed and then I chewed the pills.
They tasted good. When I finished,
I opened my mouth and looked in the mirror
The pills had dyed the plaque
clinging to my teeth a deep purple.
It was everywhere.
My mom seemed disappointed.
Well, you need to brush better, she said
as she stood up and left the bathroom.
I brushed and brushed and brushed
until my gums bled.
I wanted more teeth to brush.

It was the first time that
I feared what I could not see.



Jason Fisk lives and writes in the suburbs of Chicago. He has worked in a psychiatric unit, labored in a cabinet factory, and mixed cement for a bricklayer. He was born in Ohio, raised in Minnesota, and has spent the last 25 years in the Chicago area. www.jasonfisk.com