In The Dentist’s Chair

The confined view from
my dentist’s chair stretches
only to the hooded lamp above,
to dentist and assistant close
by on either side peering
into my mouth, prodding
poking gums teeth with
tubes tweezers prong drills
clamps dental string tiny mirror.
A narrow tray with a long
row of fine delicate instruments
hovers over my chest
my teeth x-rays shine
forth beside the assistant.

An hour horizontal
in the dentist’s chair.

Why do I do it ?

I remember my mother’s
woes with teeth when
drills were slow, when pain
was long and strong causing
her to switch from a
polite pre-dinner sherry to
multiple pre-dinner gins.

I endure short term trauma
to bypass repetitious
crumbling amalgam
pain in the future.

In The Dentist’s Chair