Kevin Garrido

Reasons We Have Teeth

The first time pushed out of the mother: the second time shipped out of the mother country in
five to seven business days: a journey from the womb is a North one: a dream standing in a
corridor of a burning room: a light that travels at the boiling point of a sweating tongue: a crib
nurturing a fried wing: a dream is a coat of skin seasoned on the cutting board of a wall: teeth
wrap against my voice in a cradle, in a kind of warehouse of cradles, in a kind of warehouse of
pregnant cushions laid out like bubble wrap loading cradles: to be human: the doctors know
where I come from when I’m chewing the edge of a dollar bill on the floor: a mother knows
where I belong when I’m lying on the floor: skins are documents: the dream has razor suns that
grill skin like a polaroid becoming: I lose my I.D. in the North facility book shelved with wallets:
we eat and we sleep: to be born twice is a kind of cardboard freedom delivered by the Federal
Express: when you don’t like your food at home you visit a neighbor’s house: bastards splitting
drums at a picnic table in a Kentucky Fried Chicken: a freshly packaged mother who looks at
you with skin: born through a dream: eat and sleep: the doctors probe my deliverer, my human
express: a shooting star frozen in the atmosphere like a blister on the wall: black blood painted
the dream: white sheets soaked in dreams: I have lunch with myself eating Kentucky Fried
Chicken in the peripherals of my sleep: the vanilla smoke rotting when tracing the curly-fried
strings of the law: pull your teeth out whenever you’re hungry: the first tooth that digs its way
out is a dreamer, a bug-eyed bird keeping the North up.


Kevin Garrido is a first generation Ecuadorian-American emerging poet, teacher, and Marxist. He currently resides in North Bergen, New Jersey. As an emerging poet, this is his first work to be published. He is also currently enrolled into the graduate program at Teachers College, Columbia University for English Education.

Twitter: @tmatosrdiowires

© The Acentos Review 2020