Tonight's Poet Corner: Gold Teef, 1984

Gold Teef, 1984
by Belinda Roddie

Something set the hairs on the back
of my neck on end today as I huddled
between the impending storm of downtown
and the ensuing calm of endless fields -
a bus stop hanging in the balance,
a dilapidated green sign pointing the way.

I closed my copy of Orwell's
literary warning and remembered
that it was 1985, and we hadn't quite
gotten to a society like Oceania (yet).
To my left, an old man with only
a few remaining molars smiled. His teeth

almost looked like pyrite, the way they
glistened, even between their cracks.
When he talked, he couldn't say
his letters right, and the something
stroked my neck again and gave me
an awful chill.

When the bus came, I was half-expecting
a hearse. The old man got up, waved,
and instantly transformed into someone
younger.  He wore silks and satins
and trotted aboard with a top hat and cane,
singing "God Save the Queen" as
he disappeared into Big Brother's
metropolitan maw. And every tooth
in his now full mouth was solid gold.