Poetry Barbara Tramonte — October 3, 2011 13:52 — 0 Comments
A CHIP OFF THE OLD BLOCK – Barbara Tramonte
Every time I go to my dentist
And he looks at my dwindling teeth
He shouts, “She has teeth just like her father!â€
Yes. He knew my father
But did he know
The blood and iron of his ways?
Yes. He knew my father
His teeth
His checkbook
His less than desirable
Gag reflex
But did he know
The way he ground me down
Until I whimpered?
Recollecting that is filled with shame.
So every time I go to my dentist
Which is quite often with my cracks and
Fissures, root canals, and losses
I want to respond to his progenitor observation
Yes. I have teeth like my father
But you should see my dick.
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney
