Father taught me that teeth bloom
like flowers, spiraling outward
from a tight bud. Or like a lady’s skirt

mid-dance. But he showed me with his fist,
held so closely to my face that I was forced
to watch it break:

a pale and noiseless fusillade.

Katherine Fallon received an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College in 2006; since then, she has worked as a farmhand, grant writer, and wageworker extraordinaire. Her poems have appeared in Sink Review, Finery, Snake Nation Review, and Cleaver Magazine. She currently resides in Georgia with her partner and their four-legged menagerie.