Teeth

by J. K. Durick
   
In this chair the time
Between these times
Disappears
As if I’ve always been here.
This scraping and prodding
Have gone on since
I was able to sit up
At this angle
My mouth open in awe
Of it all.

In this chair each time
I answer questions
About my brushing
And my flossing –
Parental questions,
And I become
The little boy
Who rides his tricycle
Off the porch
And loses his front tooth,
The boy who sneaks
Off to bed too quickly
Whose mother stands
In the doorway and says,
Did you brush your teeth,
Young man?

In the chair every time
My Catholic conscience
Begins its plans for
The new me,
The guy with a straight
Clean look,
Free of the fog and debris
Of the old me,
A guy untouched by fork
Or food,
A guy free of coffee
And free of tea,

A guy cleared and closed,
Like a summer home
Out on the point –
Distant, pristine,
Out there, away,
Just beyond use, except
The occasional smile.