Transformation: Dentist Poem by Hans Ostrom

Transformation: Dentist



When I visit a dentist, I become a coyote.
My yips turn into howls. The moon sits
just above me, shining into a cave called
Mouth, and here comes the huntress,
my nemesis, with her quills and knives.
Her masked face blocks the moonlight.



hans ostrom 2016

Friday, January 20, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: dentist
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gajanan Mishra 20 January 2017

above me, fine write.

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