Tooth and Pile: a Travelogue
A filling vanished from a tooth (well back),
into which my tongue kept prying.
But before taking it to be fixed,
I took it on holiday with me and The Pile.
In the total black of night and sleep
a pinpoint of pain pricked me awake,
a tiny flame in the nether region.
But the tooth didnıt ache.
They went on holiday with me:
three weeks, in every soft strange bed
I was the Princess, the pile the Pea;
every drive in the rented car
through each blissful panorama
of vineyards, beaches, alpine grandeurs,
riven and rent by a tiny pain.
Cruising the Pacific Ocean swell,
some on the whale-tour gaped in motion-
sickness bags, unwell. I held myself in.
While Kaikouraıs
mountain snows shone unmelted,
our boatload of cameras
snapped as sperm whales tilted
their flukes and dived, or basked blowing
spume up into rainbows glowing,
while I ached on.
That Polish Pope succumbed
finally in the Vatican,
was mass-hysterically mourned,
a German Pope emerged,
crowding from the news
Baghdad atrocities,
while I ached on.
North and south, both islands
Auckland to Oamaru we went,
far from both endsı
so far from enough.
Next time we may start at Bluff,
New Zealandıs back entrance.
In my mindıs eye I see a beckoning
beacon glowing red.
Provided my pain is gone,
weıll lodge each night
in some accommodating pile
of pale lemon limestone
or rough-hewn granite,
serenely sleeping tight.
I held myself in
and held my tongue, waiting
for the bump and twinge
to subside in vain.
Prince Charles got married again.
Returned trans-Tasman,
I bided more time.
First I took my tooth to be fixed
(by a charming woman dentist).
And now at last I tell my wife
the secret of The Pile.
Why the long delay?
Something to do with the holiday,
and being a reticent male.
Iım taking The Tube from its carton;
the journey is done;
my body has come home;
I read the words:
Rectinol: For temporary reliefı
The word pilesı nowhere appears.
And temporaryı ?
oy vey, oh my.
Max Richards
North Balwyn, Melbourne
10am, Wednesday 11 May 2005
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