The root canal was so wide
a gondolier could have rowed us right through it
Docking at the swollen, bleeding gums
the product of decades of neglect
Although it was a prune pit that broke the tooth open,
the weakness had been there all along
You would dust off popcorn husks, shreds of chicken,
identifying traces of meals long digested
As I scoured fissures in the enamel,
unable to gauge their depths
You would break off samples of the molar
with hammer and chisel
And put them in my satchel
before you scaled the side
But I would fear to lean against the tooth,
for if it crumbled I would surely fall