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.
BIO
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