For Steve
Ella scrapes verdigris off her incisors with a razor blade,
and harvests it in a little brown pill jar.
She picks out horrible tendrils of spinach
from between her canines,
levers apple pulp
in brown plugs from the hole in her back-left molar.
These treasures she stows
in an alcohol suspension
for three months,
till they grow white fronds,
gills,
rudimentary eyes,
then she takes them to the estuary
and releases them, keening, at sunrise.
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