Fang of May

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That’s what I’m choosing
To call

The thing on a string
Pried out of a beast maw,
Carved into,
And given to me.

That’s what I call
The tooth taken from
The land of ‘alala

Meant to be gifted
During the holidays
By the violinist who
Bartered for it in Hawaii.

And I stare at it,
Now these years passed.

The curved blade of
A bone, with beads
And brown twine
Holding it together
With khaki accents;
A tiger carved out of
The fang’s root,
From the volcanic land
Of Hawaii.

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