You came to mind as I was flossing my teeth 

I looked up at the seashell wreathe

I remember you said you always liked the beach 

But more so, hiking 

Mountains, caves, anything to get away 

Your workdays were spent in cavities 

I remember being helpless, but hearing you say that poor oral hygiene is the greatest tragedy

And you’d whisper to me about all your older patients 

I couldn’t talk, so would just listen to you vent

Behind your blue paper mask

You took the full hour for your task

You’d ask me questions 

Knowing I couldn’t answer 

Your fingers floated along my teeth like a ballroom dancer

Yeah, you know how many cups of coffee per day I drink 

Why my gums are pink

Which molar is sensitive 

What I like to eat and where I live 

I remember this spring going in for my cleaning

There was a new hygienist 

For an hour I winced 

The same old cubby hole with that same green chair

There was a picture of a cave in the corner 

You’d been there 

“Where’s Courtney?” I aksed, before she got started 

Her eyes hardened

And she said, “Went hiking, into a cave”

“Turns out it was a giant maze”
“Her family says she is still there, rescue efforts ongoing”

In my mind, I could see you glowing

You always loved dark crevices 

And second guesses 

You got away 

I thought about you, there in my bathroom 

My smile gave way