Underside

The dentist pressed there and asked,

does that hurt?

And I had to think about it —

which should have been an answer in itself.

I'd been looking at it all week,

phone flashlight, mouth open in the mirror,

trying to locate the thing I could feel

but couldn't name.

Pale tissue. Branching veins.

That ridged seam running down the center.

I've owned this for thirty-four years

and had no idea what it looked like.

He pressed again. I said,

a little, which is what I say

when I don't know how much

I'm supposed to be hurting.