My second premolar, lower right quadrant,

marked for demolition later this month,

decides to collapse ahead of schedule,

throwing off my Saturday routine

like uncentered clay on a potter’s wheel.

The whole back half is gone,

the lingual, the dentist would say,

the result of biting a chocolate-covered nut.

There was decay already; it was as derelict

as the shell of an old city high-rise,

and now that I’ve put in my frantic call

to my dentist’s answering machine, I wait.

There is no pain, but my tongue

runs itself over the ragged, sharp edge

of enamel, like a curous pedestrian

peeking over the fence at the ruins.

The dentist opens the office just for me,

and working solo, inserts a temporary crown.

I am relieved, at least for now, and gingerly

avoid crunchy foods for a while, especially

chocolate-covered nuts. My tongue, however,

still nervous, rubs over the new construction,

over and over,

wondering about this plastic impostor.

01/05/2004

Posted on 01/05/2004
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt