The backhoe drills the street
as the dentist drills
teeth.
Amid noise
I somehow
drill on
the thought
of pain
of how much
it defines life
sprawling on the middle
of my palm
like indulgencias
earnestly hoping
to save
what might still
be saved.
New roads are expensive
but so are dentures.
And so we
excavate our
hardened scabs
to fill them with faith.
Anyway, we can cling on
anodyne
to finish the job
, anodyne priests
& pastors,
, anodyne pundits
& professors,
, anodyne pawns
& politicians,
, anodyne poems
& poets
For what we can only
promise
is that promises
are cheap.
And when nothing works
—illustrious extraction!
Traffic eases as the backhoe
ceases
And in the absence of
accompaniment
underneath my tooth
I hear
a throb
a heart.