Compliance

The chair goes back until I’m looking

at the ceiling tiles again,

waiting for the stranger to start the work.

My blood is pooling in my skull,

thick and hot.

Then the drill wakes up—

that high, mosquito scream

that vibrates in the center of my jaw.

'Open wide,' he says,

as if I have a choice in the matter.

I see myself in the chrome of the lamp,

a fish-eyed version of a person

with a mouth like a dark cave,

hoping the novocaine holds

before the silver tip hits the nerve.