Tooth for a tooth

Cracking my knuckles, I look around,

That chemical scent and the constant buzzing sound,

And poster people with smiles on their face;

Morbid does not begin to describe this place.


Clutching my pained jaw, I wait my chance,

I see a white coat approach and steal a glance;

She walks over, calls out my name, scans the crowd,

Dazed, staring at her, before I realise my name out loud.


I shuffle off my seat, she starts leading me to the chair,

Following, I can’t help but stare;

Momentarily relieved of the throbbing pain in my tooth,

She looked too young to be a dentist, to tell you the truth.


She sat me down in the chair and puts on her mask,

Pen in hand, a few questions she begins to ask;

After every reply, I have a question of my own,

She’s only a student, I should have known.


She wears her gloves and switches on the chair light,

A mirror and something that seemed a little sharper than I would have liked;

Peers into my mouth and begins prodding here and there,

Probes around a tooth and, in pain, I jump off the chair.


She gave a sympathetic nod and a masked smile,

As she wrote something else into my file;

“We’re going to have to extract that tooth, I’m afraid.”

She was honestly the only reason I stayed.


Today, my pathological fear of injections is going to take a backseat,

It’s not too often such a pretty dentist I meet;

A silent prayer in my head as the needle touches my gum,

With an anesthesised mouth I ask her where she’s from.


And as we wait for it to kick in, we talk a little more,

Until my jaw begins to feel a little sore;

She gets right to work, ploughing about,

Until finally she gets the tooth out.


When she’s done, I give her a thirty-one tooth smile,

And ask her if she’s free tonight at nine.


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