I remember the spit-fountain
\nin my father’s dental boutique
\nstaring down at the circular drain
\nspitting hoping it was almost over
\nhis gentle hands wielding mysteries
\nof pain and precision and finally relief<\/p>\n
lying back in the hard barbershop chair
\nI used to wonder if the same company made
\nboth scrolled fantasies of wrought iron
\nand black leatherette a place to fix your face
\nyour teeth your smile and as he stirred in pestle
\nthe silver-mercury amalgum I would years later
\npay to have replaced by less poisonous acrylic
\nwe would have a moment of bonding closer
\nmore intimate than anything else in our lives
\nhis soft warm fingers in my mouth.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I remember the spit-fountain in my father’s dental boutique staring down at the circular drain spitting hoping it was almost over his gentle hands wielding mysteries of pain and precision and finally relief lying back in the hard barbershop chair … Continue reading