Allison Thung’s Molar is a strikingly unique poetry collection that navigates the intersections of physical pain, existential musings, and humor through the metaphor of dental experiences. With a structure as deliberate as the intricate workings of teeth themselves, Molar examines the fragility and resilience of both human anatomy and the human spirit.
The collection opens with “Beneath,” where a shattered tooth becomes a poignant symbol of inevitability and acceptance:
"a tooth dead / a decade shatters."
Thung’s dry humor punctuates the gravity of decay, as the speaker nonchalantly remarks, “It’s long overdue.” This ability to balance pathos with levity sets the tone for the rest of the work.
Thung’s skillful use of dental terminology creates a vivid, almost tactile reading experience. In “Wisdom,” she charts the chain reaction of oral decay with precision:
"Wisdom / shoves / second molar / into first... First pays, / for mere / existence."
The poem is both a lament and a meditation on cause and consequence, demonstrating Thung’s ability to weave technical language into poetry that resonates universally.
One of the collection's standout poems, “All aches in life,” extends the metaphor of dental surgery to a broader exploration of pain management:
"At no point should / there ever be / pain—only / pressure."
Here, Thung reflects on the human tendency to seek control over suffering, suggesting that true mastery lies in recontextualizing pain rather than eradicating it.
Another powerful entry, “Bone spicules,” underscores the body’s innate intelligence and self-preservation:
"The body— / how it knows / to rid itself / of what by / which it is / no longer / served."
This poem encapsulates a central theme of the collection: the simultaneous cruelty and elegance of the body’s processes. Thung’s exploration of these ideas is both clinical and deeply empathetic.
Humor resurfaces in poems like “[ ],” where a single line carries immense weight:
"The cheek. / The (removed) / nerve of it all."
The brevity and wit evoke a chuckle while underscoring the collection’s thematic preoccupation with absence—whether of teeth, pain, or identity.
Thung’s recurring focus on the tongue, particularly in “Tongue” and “Tongue (again),” draws attention to adaptability and sensory perception. In “Tongue,” she writes:
"spills into / gap like / feline into / cardboard / box,"
evoking an image that is both playful and evocative of the body’s unconscious responses. The follow-up poem, “Tongue (again),” explores how quickly the body adapts to loss:
"Adapts to / absence / with such / expedience."
The collection’s final poem, “To the eye,” offers a poignant reflection on imperceptible change. The speaker notes that what seems unchanged on the surface is betrayed by subtle signs:
"entirely / indiscernible / from before, / only signs of / aberration."
This mirrors the human experience of concealing inner turmoil beneath a composed exterior.
Molar is an innovative and deeply personal work that transforms the mundane into the profound. Allison Thung invites readers to reconsider the ordinary—teeth, pain, and loss—and find poetry in their unexamined corners. Her deft mix of humor, technical precision, and emotional depth makes Molar a collection that lingers long after the last page is turned.
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