When dentists die,
They get popped right into the mouth of God
Like so many sugar-free lozenges.
There, among the pearly whites,
They investigate the afterlife with their little mirrors
And they say, "Karen, look at this!"
But Karen can't come--
She is still on Earth watching the EMTs thump the fallen figure in the white coat,
Counting off the compressions
As if they expected him to get up and dance.
When dentists die,
Angels put their charts up to a light,
Then carefully remove any accumulated sin
With their gleaming silver instruments.
Meanwhile, Karen leans against a sink and says, quietly,
"He can't be gone! He had a three o'clock!"
Tonight, she will go home and make pasta salad.
Her dog will be there, looking cheerfully up at her as if she had just dropped down from Heaven
Deus ex machina
And she will be grateful for his devoted heart
And his beautiful perfect white teeth.
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