Poem of the Week: Teething Ring

A new work by Rosamund Taylor

Rosamund Taylor. Photograph: Ger Holland
Rosamund Taylor. Photograph: Ger Holland
I excavated greasy drawers for treasure:
concert programmes, out-of-focus photos,

letters from priests, hand-written receipts.
Behind bills, matchboxes, piano scores,

I unearthed gold. Too big for a bangle,
the circle slid up my bicep, a warrior’s armband.

My grand-aunt told me it was a teething-ring.
My thumb traced cross-hatchings

made by baby ancestors easing swollen gums.
When the house was stripped, sold,

piano shipped away, I bit the ring. It split open –
a breath of coal-dust, sago, greengage jam.

Rosamund Taylor has published In Her Jaws (Banshee Press, 2022), a poetry collection, and Filly, a novel-in-verse (Banshee Press, 2025)