When a newly-charged toothbrush
groans like a dying calf in my mouth
and the light of a head-torch
is snuffed in the aura of my hand
and relatives pecks shock me
as does the touch of thigh-rubbing
acrylic wearers, and petting
our sister’s cat on a stone flag delivers
a blue crack to her little wet nose
and a tooth viability test administered
at the School of Dentistry all but shoots
me, Bond-like from the chair
I think of your friend who cannot walk
down town at night without streetlights
dying in a domino cascade
and I know that all my efforts
are not nearly enough
to bring me back
into your favour.
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