The Recovery

If I could wrap a thousand times a bandage round my face,

It still would not hide the giant lump that’s firmly taken place

Above my jaw, inside my cheek, the proof of battle bruise

The war occurred within this mouth, and all for tooth to lose

A poke, a prod, a dig, a saw, a chunk of cheek now swaddled with gauze,

Some missing gum, not ever chewed, and while I screamed he took his pause,

Put down the axe, the blade, the tools and took up his sewing kit to close

An open wound inside my mouth, though I struggled, they were not foes

No more removing wisdom than my brain, but a simple tooth which tried in vain

To stay so put inside this bloody drain, whilst the digging leads to me insane.

And finally done, I could rest assured I was complete now with my loss

Free to go, with a long set of instructions, at last with excuse to stop with floss.

Still, two remain to haunt my dreams – heaven forbid I go through this again.

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