Root Canal
This is a world of invisible glass
There’s a pain in my upper right molar,
where the dentist went deep on an old scar.
Each sip of iced coffee or cold cream
savages the pain sensors near my ear,
a blurring nettle sting, mosquito snack,
a honeybee death, a stabbing sliver
along myelin sheath. The world of pain is
pervasive. It comes from both sharp and soft
things. Without the stabbing and sunburns, we
forget which way to turn — attracted less
than repelled — by swords and sticks, spikes
and whips. This is a world of invisible glass
shards, suffocating monoxides that strip
the land of men and cattle. Where can we
stand that is safe? Where can we find the gloves
and shields to hold back the slashes? We smith
them from bone, hand them down, become a god,
save as many as we can take with us.
© Trapper Markelz 2021
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