Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Final Issue 2018
Regrowing My Own Teeth
j/j hastain
Juliet Cook

If I was a blonde blow up doll the color
of my hair would not matter.

The words that I used to use
that I can’t anymore
were replaced with moans
and I can’t speak for myself.

I can still think for myself though,
even though it’s stuck inside.
I can pretend what’s dripping down
my quiet screaming throat is sea foam.

I can reach through it to find the bottle
that holds the genie. I don’t
want a genie of my very own to call
my own. I want a genie to wave its
hands in the air and let me
come out. Today the genie is under
the bed. I think it’s only pretending
to hide, keeping me from shouting I am
ready to set fire to the reigns.

Whenever I’m shoved under
the bed, I practice my techniques.
How to snap my mouth shut
at just the right time.

How to turn my blonde hair red
until the color matters and sets me free.

About j/j hastain About Juliet Cook

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