Teeth

TEETH Taking a dry lick Over the smoke stain, guck, Mouth forced wide as parched lips permit, I marvel at my luck For God’s sake, I still taste! Even with barren limbs in stark tragedy I’ve no toothache, bite only a bit numb, Why this infernal haste? Over the pain I’d mumbled a prayer To the reaper, To Miss E.R. Nightingale, “Take me! Not a moment spare!” “Show in the cooing cloth I’ve a message to whisper Though I stumbled my way through life, So did we, my wife, both.” Die? Now I’m not too certain The taste buds have returned So, in this clammy atmosphere, antiseptic smell, I yell, “Bring on the soup! Open the curtain!” Dave Austin