Smile

Smile

A Poem by Janet Potts

This dentist says

my teeth

are crooked.

She smiles,

her mouth

a white picket fence.

 

She tells

me “You won’t be

pretty

until you look

like

this.”

 

The chair

smells like

alcohol and

toothpaste.

 

B***h tells

me “Men will

like you

better.”

 

I flip her

my middle

finger and

 I’m out the door

smiling

with my

crooked teeth.

© 2011 Janet Potts


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Added on April 29, 2011
Last Updated on April 29, 2011