I am a bio-tooth. I make
A dodo of the denture.
Lie still. You will not hear the drill –
But thrill to my adventure.
Your mouth may eat with pure depravity,
But I can fill the deepest cavity.
I am a bio-tooth. I give
Free-range, organic bites.
I am lascivious. I give
A vampire sleepless nights.
Should you have gnashers that succumb,
They’ll grow me from a slice of gum.
I am a bio-tooth. I thrive
By cloning you, your gob:
A cuspid cracks, it will survive,
Because that is my job.
A bio-LibDem, do you ask?
No: teeth. It’s not a magic task.
Click here for a story in The Guardian
Click here to buy Bill’s poetry collection Ringers
Click here to buy Philip Seargeant and Bill Greenwell’s From Language To Creative Writing