GINGIVA Heather Hartley

Gingiva, she whispers and nods, in the know. Gingiva something between finger, jeering, and java. Here we are, Christine and me, at a little Sunday afternoon partya little too Sunday afternoon, at least for Christine, who fills in crossword puzzles with her fingerprints. But her lipstick and loafers are just so, as are, it seems, my gums. / love your gums, she says to me, they match your sweater. Yes, Madame, oui ouithey make an ensemble. You can imagine the color of my gums: when someone says / love your gums it's not because you've got the bubonic plague in there, no way, it's just that I've never seen that before, she starts, staring at my mouthmy mouth glued shut, for fear of exposing those indecent, lovely, ungainly, nubile gums. She asks: Couldyou open your mouth again? It 'sjust incredible. She's used the polite formthe conditionaland frankly, so much these days seems at best conditional; I open my mouth for her: So beautiful, she says, how do you do it? Colgate, Mom, god And you, Christine, belle of the ball, of my mouth, my maw, spellbound by my gums, come closer, gingival dowager queen slip me your mandible secret.

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