They say artwork is open to interpretation

I thought of that from the cushy chair

The painting on the wall was a fascination

Thankfully the wall across from me wasn’t bare

There was a portrait of neon colors: a mix of blue, green, yellow, white

It was very bright

The shiny bulbs beamed down on my mouth

Metal instruments with gloved hands went in and out

My jaw was sore

But thankfully the hygienist had gentle hands

I stared at that painting on the wall, silent and still

In the next room over I thought I heard a drill

Body parts in the painting came into view

A humerus, a face, a tooth

Maybe a few plants etched in

Was it transmitting a hidden truth

I heard a yell

And then what sounded like a saw

A few more pieces appeared in the painting

An ear, a nose, a foot

I looked

The dental hygienist held a hook

The colors in the painting started to move

I remember the feeling: I had to choose

My arms and legs were heavy

I tried to get up but wasn’t ready

A sleepiness ensued

At some point later I came to

Some old teeth had been extracted

Thanks to the anesthesia I hadn’t overreacted

To thinking the dentist office was a horror scene

Turns out it’d been some sort of sedated dream

I slowly left the dentist office when it was done

Looking still at the painting on the wall

This time blue, green, yellow, white

Was a prettier sight

A tropical tree, a waterfall

An orangutan

Was it all part of the artist’s plan

As I walked out I saw a man in a small room off to the side

He wore a white coat but held a paintbrush

“Goodbye, Dr. Shaffer,” I both said and asked

He looked up, smiling, in no rush

Told me, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t die?”