Tanka | Memories of Orthodontics

I have written tanka about my memories of orthodontic treatment.

I refer to the dentist as 'he' with affection. Calling him 'he' also saves two characters.

Will I really become a beauty? Was it a hallucination? My 'question mark' begins here.

When I handed him the diagram of where it hurts, he must have wondered, 'What is this?'

When the treatment time dragged on, with my mouth held open, I sent him 'do your best' beams from my heart.

Is it only moving about 1mm a month? I entrust this 'question mark' pace to him.

The light of the closed clinic is on, and I am grateful for his casual clothes, even if they are a 'question mark'.

The 'have a good new year' I heard at the beginning of December was my first 'question mark' of the year-end.

I thought I would cry when the wires were removed, but a 'question mark' came first.

The retainer that protects my aligned teeth makes my surname with an 's' sound sound precarious.

The next checkup is when the cherry blossoms bloom, a sentimental next promise.

I can no longer remember the teeth that left like someone giving up their seat; I am happy now.

Savoring the connection made with my doctor, I brush my teeth at night just as I always do.

Afterword
I had so many memories that when I tried to write an essay, I couldn't pull it all together. And so, what I arrived at in the end was this "tanka." My overflowing memories were beautifully sublimated into these thirty-one syllables.