{"id":18980,"date":"2012-01-30T19:42:51","date_gmt":"2012-01-31T03:42:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/spiken.wpengine.com\/news\/the-new-dentist-poem-by-jaimee-kuperman\/"},"modified":"2016-10-22T00:45:35","modified_gmt":"2016-10-22T07:45:35","slug":"the-new-dentist-poem-by-jaimee-kuperman","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/life\/the-new-dentist-poem-by-jaimee-kuperman\/","title":{"rendered":"The New Dentist | Poem by Jaimee Kuperman"},"content":{"rendered":"
Jaimee Kuperman is a poet living and working in the Washington, D.C., area, and she shares with many of us the experience of preparing one\u2019s self for a visit to the dentist. Do you, too, give your teeth an especially thorough brushing before entering that waiting room?<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The New Dentist<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/p>\n Driving to the new dentist\u2019s office<\/p>\n<\/p>\n the slow drive of a new place<\/p>\n<\/p>\n with the McDonalds that I don\u2019t go to<\/p>\n<\/p>\n on the left, the mall two miles away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The Courthouse and the Old Courthouse<\/p>\n<\/p>\n road signs that break apart, the fork in the road<\/p>\n<\/p>\n that looks nothing like a fork or a spoon, in fact<\/p>\n<\/p>\n at best, maybe a knife bent in a dishwasher<\/p>\n<\/p>\n that leans to one side. And I know the dentist<\/p>\n<\/p>\n will ask about my last visit and want to know<\/p>\n<\/p>\n in months that I can\u2019t say some time ago<\/p>\n<\/p>\n and I know he will ask me about flossing<\/p>\n<\/p>\n and saying when I\u2019m in the mood won\u2019t be<\/p>\n<\/p>\n the appropriate answer.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n He will call out my cavities<\/p>\n<\/p>\n as if they were names in a class.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I brush my teeth before going in.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n It\u2019s like cleaning before the cleaning person<\/p>\n<\/p>\n but I don\u2019t want him to know I keep an untidy<\/p>\n<\/p>\n mouth. That I am the type of person who shoves<\/p>\n<\/p>\n things in the closet before guests arrive.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n<\/p>\n