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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.
Copyright ©
Roxanne Andorfer
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