Op/Ed Poetry
Poetry: Remembering our dentist, Harvey Green
Known for humming when he drilled.
Singing, his kind of Novocaine.
His FM tuned to the newsy station.
Across the border, where life seemed
better. In the BBC’s clear Canada.
Better than waiting for the Novocaine
to take. For his drill to do its work.
Numb, for us to try to speak.
Letting water spill from our lips.
Swish, is what he said. When sitting
in his tilted chair was almost over.
And we could forget we weren’t
the first astronauts to land back
on Earth. Later, for pain to go
where pain goes. When it’s gone.
Knowing, whatever Doctor Green sang
worked. (Remember he was one
of our volunteers volunteering
at Middlebury’s Festival on the Green.)
And how, between sets, he would walk
amidst the crowd. With his donation bucket.
Not having to say anything. Humming,
what was so familiar.
Gary Margolis
Cornwall
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