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Sublime  •  10 September 2021  •  Fiction

Toothache

By Tom Disalvo
Toothache

think of that ice cream as fruit-scooped moons

zest of frozen lemon‭,‬

flesh of icy melon‭; ‬

shared on entwining spoons‭. ‬

cream gleams in sun

reflects‭, ‬on melting mirrors‭ ‬

glistening grins and sorbet-sopped chins‭. ‬

spoon in your mouth‭ ‬

dangles from smiley crevasses‭ ‬

we share it then‭, ‬

aeroplane mouthfuls and

‘choo-choo’‭ ‬chews‭.‬

‭ ‬

toppings‭, ‬too‭ ‬

we count 100’s and 1000’s‭, ‬

sift through coconut crumbs‭. ‬

we leave melted trails‭,‬

to dribble off our heels

like Hansel and Gretel‭, ‬

we scatter waffle petals‭, ‬

en-route to gingerbread homes‭. ‬

relish in pulpy treats‭, ‬

savour life’s confection‭! ‬

squeezed from sugary adventures‭; ‬

the nectar of this love‭! ‬


afterwards‭, ‬

we sprawl on creamy sheets‭, ‬

blow each other’s raspberries‭ ‬

I kiss your plump tummy‭. ‬

we lay under vanilla clouds‭, ‬

dreaming of ice cream castles‭. ‬

but there’s danger to sweet teeth‭ ‬

hear my mother’s prophesy‭: ‬

you’ll be sick‭! ‬

she yells it‭, ‬poolside‭,‬

as sugar precedes quease‭ ‬—

the flush-pink unease‭: ‬

one too many spoonfuls‭. ‬

it tastes different now‭, ‬

curdles on my tongue‭: ‬

not lovers‭, ‬but gluttons‭. ‬

I heave‭,‬

it gleams‭ ‬—

it makes me hungry again‭.‬

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