Ode to an Oral Surgeon

Tomorrow you will slice my gums
And take from them what lies beneath.
How deeply do I loathe the thought
Of knives around my precious teeth.

‘Vestigial’ is the claim you make,
A tissue not worth keeping,
A curse upon my mouth in time,
A poison slowly seeping.

Now maybe I’m a skeptic, true.
Perhaps I’m just a little scared.
But could this be another racket
Your kind has prepared?

‘We’ll bleach your chompers by three shades,
And then you can regain your youth.
We’ll chain the crooked into shape,
Eschew the wicked wisdom tooth!’

My mouth and I have done quite well
Sans intervention from your trade,
But to your will I shall defer,
And bare my gums before the blade.

Though losing teeth still haunts my dreams,
Tomorrow you may pull it.
For lack of better metaphor,
I have to bite the bullet.