Flossing

A poem about flossing

Open wide thy crevasse of oral platitudes

Use thousands of muscles

Sinew and vein to the brink of pain

Open wide

Enter a forest of fingers, bound

Bulbous throbbing thumbs

Awkward sawing, enamel gnawing

Gums cut

Minty fresh taste tinged with blood

Pyres of pain alight

between the teeth that lie and rip.

Don’t swallow

Spit flotsam sinkwards

Clockwise running ruby

Water mingling, mouth tingling

Swill Listerine

Regard ones image in mirror

Smile a bloody grin

Sleep contentedly in the know that your mouth is

Free of sin