Apr/May 2019 Poetry Special Feature |
Excerpted imagery from photography by Kris Saknussemm
3 a.m. in the Orthodontist's Diner
As I feel my soul dissolve
Into the incandescence of dawn's awakening
I feel the glow warm and crisp, grazing through my fingers
Like jukebox arising from the depths of childhoodSuddenly my grandfather is present
I dream in technicolor, chubby shapes unfolding vividly
I see lupine succulents atop the window sill of his dental office
Plump hands sticking into a mouthing well of gaping wisdom whites
His blonde hair strings from his head like golden steak fries
Greasy children in the waiting room
I slouch upon a silver swivel seat in the loungeGazing at pickled dentures in a jar of blue liquid
His latex gloves are stained with blood, not ketchup
Freddie Mercury can be heard faintly in the distance
Everything's a blur, everything, everything
I wake up in bed again
No comfort in the food here