An Erotic Poem about the Dentist’s Office

Two women are
giving me
a root canal,
bending over my mouth
like tall river flowers. Amazingly, a dental dam
stretches its taut rubber across
my clamped-open mouth, making me remember
a fetish I only recollect in the dentist’s office.
The inside of my cheek and lip
against their fingers, as both inside the dam
and on its lush pile of latex like a velvet
rug they push and push.
                                            Water suddenly floods
into my mouth, and a machine all science-fiction
half buzzing fly and half zapper here to shock me
makes bizarre vibration where my speech
would go. If I could speak, mind. Now a bad taste
from my own corrupted tooth, but they suction it up so swiftly for me,
sweetly as wiping tears. Only stick, Doctor, stick your thumb
against the dam again so I can feel its weight.

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