d & c

By Charles Ramsay McCrory


the scraper digs her molar down
to its root, like millennia of wind
against a chalk cliff. relax
says the hygienist, it’s just tartar–
what wants to accrue on her
the way grit sublets an oyster.
still, it hurts. it hurts the mind
where only lidocaine can split
plaque from enamel.
she thinks of those women
who lay awake on their backs

denied anesthesia, facing
maybe, a ceiling like this one–
slats like slices of cheap paper
while a curette scraped down where
their mothers told them not to look.
in that scraping, could they tell
themselves from what peeled away?
& after, did they feel they’d been
reduced, as she does
at her mirror tonight, tonguing
the length of each new tooth?

Charles Ramsay McCrory is an English student at The University of Mississippi, as well as a fiction reader for The Adroit Journal.  His work has appeared in The Cossack Review, The Adroit Journal, and Amethyst Arsenic. 

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