The Cutting Edge
What could be better than dental health--
perky pink gums, gleaming caps, and root canals
filled with sterilized rubber?
Yes, my cuspids are anchored
and ache only on a dream-tossed pillow,
unlike my mother's teeth that come out nightly
in a group, puckering her mouth with emptiness.
Please assist me, steadfast teeth; promote
dice my dover sole and grind my essential bran.
Don't succumb to stress, don't crack and stab with a
pain that festers like an angry untrappable fly
confounding my brain. Let the ghost of dental danger
pass over this house.
If you've any comments on this poem, Richard
Soref would be pleased to hear from you.