Like a knife when deployed,
each tooth encased in metal that’s base and that ain’t alloyed.
Titty bites cause nipple slights—
when you require teeth wire, you’re mired in mitered plight.

Your face ain’t a-grinnin’, you dental upstart.
Dentition has got the bands. . .
eighteen months to ending once the torture starts. . .

Your teeth then capped.
You’re a crude osculator,
rude osculator. . . .

Toast or roast—that’s fare you can’t chaw, so—eggs and ale
can port into the mouth; beef embargo. . .forget kale.

Plaice in place in hole in face,
possibly lox and buns, hot cross,
but no hard case.

No licentious love, insurance on hold.
“Just pecks—no Frenching, please!” your dentist will scold.
“Those brackets have angles—keep it controlled!

“Your teeth can rasp!”
You’re a rude osculator,
crude osculator. . . .

Gropes in throat, wounds are opened as brackets impale.
She’s cross; you’ve scored her mouth; her fist far goes back to wale—
you get a bash!

Tooth lost. . .a crater,
tooth-cost inflater. . . .