What a fabulous quartet you were.
The Amadeus, the Beatles.
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
blessing the food I chewed upon.
Four-square you stood, rock steady.
Never close but always in perfect harmony.
Last to arrive I thought you’d be in for the duration
but there was a fallout, and one by one you quit.
Sometimes I take out the Tooth Fairy bags
from my desk, and fingering the bone-beads
like a rosary, meditate upon a future without teeth.
Then to cheer myself up, practise gurning.
O wisdom, now that you’re gone
my mouth has grown foolish, my cheeks they have sunk.
I am become gobsmacked and ghoulish
like an Edvard Munch.