Jesus to the Dentophobe

For the 36% of the US population affected by dental anxiety

I’m a man of sorrows       well acquainted           with sharp things 

     that pierce the skin 	   my spirit sanded down	    to the nub

and nerves afire 	   with exploding stars	     When the drill screeches 

     awake 	and you clench the vinyl arms            you must believe 

I feel your terror	     in my triceps	    I swung hammers knowing 

     that one day		my wrists would writhe 	   on the receiving end

There’s no way 	    to get through it		    blessed one		

     but through	 with the smoke of tooth dust   	     in your hair		

Breathe          Count		Wick any life you can 	    from the water 	

     streaming into the void	     Then rest your jaws in the putty tray 	

and remember 	the mud and spit in the blind man’s eye	

     Tonight 	        you will taste the grit and see	          oh beloved 

crowned with many crowns	   that the future self 	always survives	

     though with a memory of ache	    another free floss	   to shove 

in the drawer 	  and always a card reminding you	     to return