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            Michael H. Levin: Poems and Prose  

1CROWN 2FILLINGS

A whirr of sanitized machines

vile odors of adhesive

and ceramic filed to fit


tap-tap, grind sideways now

they say. One final push

a sudden twinge of glue


and all’s emplaced

while I lie cumbent in epoxy dreams

and wait for permanent cement


to seal, recalling mandibles

from interglacial pits;

tale-telling teeth that burials


at Thebes now yield; blue bits

of lapis on enamel

of brush-licking scribes


and wonder if a thousand years downstream

some robot paleo-this or -that

will brush soil from the remnants


of my lower jaw and ponder

what I ate, how aged,

and analyze my molars’


patterned wear or clues

preserved in dessicated plaque

for the elusive being it’s programmed


to pursue and try to corner there.




The Raven's Perch (Dec. 20, 2021)