GOOSEBERRY PIE LIT MAGAZINE

9am Saturday, Dentist Office

Photo by Alex McCarthy on Unsplash

by Megan Cannella

“It’s my dad’s ashes,” chirped the hygienist, in response to an old woman’s compliment of her necklace, prompting a collective silence to fall over the waiting room, as much a communal event as anything I’ve ever experienced. 

“Since your mouth is so small, have you considered using a child’s tooth brush?” asked the hygienist, looking critically at my mouth. How many people would be shocked that my mouth is too small for anything? “Too Small for an Adult Toothbrush, Not Too Small for a Dick” could be a good title for a poem, if I remember this long enough to get it down on paper. Though, naturally, it’s already hardwiring into a core descriptor, destined to join other bangers that have been shared with me by medical professionals, such as: cervix: perfectly one finger inside the body not to be confused with cervix: looks like a Christmas cookie.

Not sure any of that competes with the woman still wearing her dead daddy around her neck or the old women complimenting her grief, wondering where they can buy something similar for themselves, but I gotta at least try.

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Megan Cannella (she/they) is writing or watching Bravo. Find more of their work here https://linktr.ee/mcannella. Megan’s on Twitter @megancannella and Instagram @meeeeegancan.

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