Muffled air filled with tense white knuckled grips,
The polished steel with penetrating bite
Spots tender gums and smiles with delight.
Eager, it licks its shining sterile lips.
The fog rolls in and tells the greatest jokes,
They’re laughing through the streams of copper red,
It’s funny, all that metal in their head
And all those probing, painful, little pokes.
Reclined flat with a mouthful of fingers
That dig around like bony latex worms
And each one grabs, and pulls, and prods, and squirms,
And where it is most sensitive, lingers
Pristine machines glisten with gory glee
And beckon unto the fragile teeth of thee