Nice Touch, Doc…You’re Killing Me

Like a postman my dentist
Delivers novocaine
To several addresses along my gums,
First to one nerve,
Then deeper still
To a second, a third and the rest of the block…
How much longer,
I’m desperate to know.
But her hand’s in my mouth.
When finally she’s done,
My lips and my gums
And my tongue
Are all numb as ice,
And a sip of water dribbles out.
But, oddly, in my deadened lip
There’s a maddening itch…
An itch I can feel,
While my scratching to stop it,
I can’t feel a bit.