I. Will not. Floss

I

Will not

Floss.

I

Will not

Stick bits of plastic in my mouth

to rip between the edges of my teeth

and shred my sensitive-ish gums

to validate your bloody marketing

and wholesale purchase of dentist gowns.

I

Will not

Shame the memory of my head-hunting ancestors

who grew bitter herbs in the wild-wild hills

to boil them with fermented lard

and came from a cave and left across a lake

and have left me here to pretend

at being them.

I

Will not

Floss.

And when these teeth rot and die

and these powerful gums are a distant memory

I will get dentures.

For she loves me without my floss,

and swears she will love me

without my teeth.