Root Canal

Where to begin? Perhaps with the hum of the drill lurking in some unseen chamber, already rehearsing my name? Or the taunting clock counting down the minutes? I’d like to write a poem about something else besides dentistry but this is the loudest thought I’ve got and it’s already wearing my favorite shirt and deciding if the black flats or pink sneakers will be more forgiving when I’m walking out numb. I don’t want to go and I don’t want to be late at the same time. It’s a complex philosophy for someone who hasn’t even picked out her earrings yet and still hasn’t decided if she’s brave enough for mascara today. Soon enough, with keys in hand, I’ll step into the waiting day— the brave face applied, the sneakers sympathetic, and fate already flipping the open sign.