Pick your own

There are too many possible titles for this poem and my indecision was preventing me posting it, so please choose for yourself: 

Tooth Fairy
Mental Hygienist
Excuse me, you’ve got something in your teeth

(model uses bamboo dental floss; available from all good zero waste shops)

I walk around looking up
when something hits me
it’s hard to write it down
to ground it
to grind it
to make it digestible
you have to dilute it a bit

I had a dream I had floss in my teeth
I held one end and wound round and round
fishing out something from my gut further down
I didn’t want to lose that thread
to snap and not get to the bottom of it

It was hard work
satisfying and slightly disgusting
the kind of thing you only do in the bathroom
not for public consumption
Pieces of me
that need to come out
for my benefit

A poem is made from all the bits that stay
after the filling’s taken away
other memories yellow and start to decay

At the end of the day it’s
the stuff you really got your teeth into
those things you achieved by the skin of your teeth
It’s what you lied through your teeth about and
who you’d give your eye teeth to see

Extracting poems is like pulling teeth
Except somewonderfultimes
you just put them under your pillow and there’s treasure in the morning

©tamingtheoctopus 2020