Ode to an Old Tooth
Already braced, canaled, crowned,
you now want to be extracted from
my cleaving gums, shy jaw.
White jewel, what haven’t I given?
Daily brushings, gum massages,
polishings. Tender ribeye,
filets, chocolate mousse,
breakfast oranges, cabernet.
Still, you rebel. Infection,
abscess, a final fracture to say,
Get me out. I quit this mouth.
Were you angry I didn’t crown
you in gold and veneers?
Transitory tooth, friend that corralled my tongue
in a polite white fence, now you moan
in expletives and swell gums with red
fever. Your roots crumble like dry
gypsum. I wish we could’ve gone together
to learn the dental clatter of empty skulls.
Now a chasm ghost makes my words leak
air and lives on soup, soft eggs, Jell-O.
Oh, and a bit more merlot.
Jari Thymian
Nominated by Radiant Turnstile for 2008 Pushcart Prize