Downer @ the Dentist = One Sick, Sad Sonnet

I went to the dentist this morning with a cracked filling and throbbing toothache.  I thought he would patch me up then and there, but no!  The whole tooth is fractured.  I now need to see an oral surgeon to have it removed.  Then a different dentist will replace it with an implant.

On the train home I channeled my pain, anger and general angst into a sonnet.  Apologies if it appears flippant; all of these issues are serious.

Morning Ablutions

Limp into the bathroom.  Face the mirror.
The smiling mien’s just surface, ‘cause within
the bag that’s you is ever-present terror
which cracks and flings about like bowling pins.
You stumble as you slip your underpants off.
You hear the radio behind you say
that in today’s Iraq extremists cast off
men from high-floored buildings if they’re gay.
The news continues, ratchets up your angst.
You lean into the mirror.  Now there’s gunfire.
Inside your nostrils:  Darwin’s tangled banks
of glistening burrs and bristles, thick black wires.
And at the Louvre, the Mona Lisa sits,
smirks (she just passed gas), and sweetly shits.

– Bruce Ballard