With no appointment for myself,
I'm a severe seagull surfing currents.
You're intrigued by the hydraulic chair
florescent lights, and sit quietly.
I pat your hand, You’re such a brave boy.
Now its Mommy’s turn
I’m as trapped as that squirrel that fell
down the chimney, left hundreds of sooty paw prints
scurrying to escape.
Only one exit route, so I
climb into the dentist’s chair.
You pat my hand, You’re such a brave mommy.
First published by Poetry Breakfast.