Prairie Moon Dalton

Amalgam

I don’t talk to my mother

but when I do she tells me not to

eat canned fish for every meal.

She can practically see

the mercury levels rising

in my bloodstream, molars

and premolars cradled

forever in tin and silver.

I need to change lenses, renew

my registration, salt fruit and wash it

twice, see the dentist and never leave

a water bottle in a hot car. It’s bad

enough, she says, those pins holding

your jaw together won’t ever dissolve,

will be with you longer than I ever can,

will set off every alarm and you’ll have to

say it was you. Worst of all,

when you’re cremated you won’t burn

up, you’ll just melt down.