The Hungry Artist

The thread, white, wound around
and knotted twice.

As he tied one end to my tooth
and the other to the knob,
I begged, from where had the thread
been extracted?

From a spool, you fool, he answered
and with one swift jerk
tore my tooth from its roots.

For days after, wiggled and jiggled
the vacant matter.

Had a way, and still do,
of probing painful extraction
with all the force of
a hungry,
lingering tongue.