Juliet Cook
MY TEETH HAVE BEEN LOOSE FOR YEARS
The lineup of blood
drenched animal crackers
is hiding deep down underneath
so many tiny broken beds.
Scared little girls can only gain control
if they turn into different creatures
if they bite off the heads and spit.
Every single night that raggedy doll tried to teach
another horrific lesson
about restraint and lying
as still as I possibly could.
I wanted to turn that doll's head around
and snap it before it crawled from my midriff
up to my pillowcase, attempting to
smother me into demolition.
It dressed like a bloody tooth fairy.
It wanted to knock me out, remove my teeth
with a pickaxe, sell them at the black market.
If this is another recurring bad dream,
then where does it come from?
Why won't the inside of my head stop
screaming as I choke on my own baby teeth?
I wretch out another black macaroon,
see it float to the top of the ceiling fan,
then dive back down and splinter another bed stand.
Heavily whipped mold festers in every corner of this room.