hygienist is new.
they're always new here.
she begins with x-rays,
eighteen of them, nearly
one for each tooth.
she's very plump
and fun,
blue rubber gloves
on her thick hands.
she's everywhere at
once.
i hear the whirr as she
escapes the room,
the button pushed for
a picture,
and at last she says one
more, open wide
setting a contraption
invented by Marquis de Sade
inside.
then there's scraping,
polishing,
shining a blue light
onto my tongue,
my gums.
she's asking questions
about my day,
what i had for breakfast,
but i can't answer them,
because half her hand
is in my mouth, my
tongue trapped
by her thumb.
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