My socks are slinking themselves
down into the grave.
An orphanage of toes covered up
and left behind.
Replaced with younger legs
thinking of song lines from roads walked in other lifetimes.
Sometimes the microphone turns into a scalpel
and I begin to cut away
all of the shitty choices I made in the past.
I can’t cut them all out of my brain, but
I can modify the collages.
I’ve changed my diet into nothing but red
or pink smoothies and tiny fingernails
and eyelash after eyelash, each of which has helped me
learn to see the Unseen world.
This eyelash grows to the size of a stingray tail.
Every stingray has a different shape
and every stingray’s shape changes
when you swim with it underwater on a tour in the Bahamas
leading towards a tour inside the broken balloon mouth
choking on little clouds of purple lint.
Pulled from the pockets of larger-than-life empowerments,
then hand-designed and flung up into the sky,
my socks will learn to fly.
By Juliet Cook & j/j hastain
Juliet Cook is a grotesque glitter witch medusa hybrid brimming with black, grey, silver, purple, and dark red explosions. She is drawn to poetry, abstract visual art, and other forms of expression. Her poetry has appeared in a peculiar multitude of literary publications. You can find out more at http://www.JulietCook.weebly.com.
j/j hastain is a collaborator, writer and maker of things. j/j performs ceremonial gore. Chasing and courting the animate and potentially enlivening decay that exists between seer and singer, j/j hopes to make the god/dess of stone moan and nod deeply through the waxing and waning seasons of the moon.