Wisdom teeth being born in the back of a mouth.
Ripping, bleeding, clawing their way crawling out.
Peaking shy heads above gums.
Endless exploration by a torn and tearing tongue.
Even pushing, at times, as if muscle could make bone
retreat back inside, hide, in the calcium kernels
with roots gripped into my jaw.
Wiser than us all.
Wisdom teeth came in like men riding mares,
looking up and seeing stars, answering their call.
The wisest of us all.
Brave enough to go and grow
where they have not once
ever been called.