Maine Girl

Softening the blow with sighed regret
The dentist intones what my tongue already knows
“That tooth needs a crown, and soon.”
Blast! There goes the new refrigerator!
Carried off by waves of why this and why me and why now
The tooth’s mere pain recedes, nearly forgotten
Buried under fast-laid sediments of self-pity and indignation
Woe the frocked and glove-clad messenger!
Above the bib, my weapon eyes shoot accusing darts
The brave nurse leans into the line of fire and says, “Now, now…”

REWIND.

“That tooth needs a crown, and soon.”
The sound just an echo, already fading and joining
The words, reminders of the sad crumbling
Of all our proudly cobbled and certainly doomed edifices
Briefly fixable with enamel patches and without fixation
Who is this queen who thinks she needs a crown?
At best, an ephemera with a softened and grateful heart
One who knows the lie of “I” and daily vows to bear the aches of all
Beyond the fear-born need for stories, beyond hope of glory
She leans readily into the line of fire with a comforting, “Now, now…”

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Copyright Deborah A. McGlauflin, July 2012. All rights reserved.