
they flew over me like drones
camera in both hands
wide mouth mimicked Marilyn Monroe's fame
can’t hide my wounded pride
‘open your mouth, fake smile’
nothing aligned with my soul
everything rapid but consistent
the dentist only talked
psychology and language were at play
nine teeth to be fixed
one root canal to correct it
I couldn't force anything onto safe ground
I had to improvise
without a dough
things envisaged out of control
in my shaking hands
that was the last part
of my humiliation
crashing onto badly tiled floor
four years without an X-ray have done this
at least hygienist
cleaned them first
the rest is silence
if I still have teeth and money next year
---
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...


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