All four toothbrushes have teeth, so
I mustn’t touch them
the toothbrush her ex left behind five months ago has and she so I to lie crumpled on the floor of her room
where we left it
all four toothbrushes have teeth, last night, she fed me promises so sweet she decides, she will buy me a toothbrush she returns with my very own toothbrush heartbreak spreads over my teeth Jo Morrigan Black is a Paris-born poet. They have worked with indigenous leaders in Colombia, left stray feathers in Berlin, and stalked the streets of Dublin as a vampire. Their stage performances aim to celebrate the queer and the unknowable in each of us. Image: farmingtondentalcenter.com Check out HFR’s book catalog, publicity list, submission manager, and buy merch from our Spring store. Follow us on Instagram and YouTube. Disclosure: HFR is an affiliate of Bookshop.org and we will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Sales from Bookshop.org help support independent bookstores and small presses.
teeth
the shaggy bristled toothbrush with the suction cup has
teeth
the toothbrush that she held in her mouth yesterday
while she texted that she’d like me to come over has
teeth
the toothbrush still under plastic has teeth
all four toothbrushes have teeth,
lick the blood from bitten lips; hunt for inner cheeks to shred
stuck her tongue down my throat
in search of any sharp words I had swallowed
peeled my love off
and tossed it
from the edge of her bed
but she can’t seem to say what
it is about me
she couldn’t bear to taste in her mouth
she doesn’t want to let me leave fuzzy-gummed;
but if I were to press my lips to any one of her four toothbrushes
she knows it would be one kiss too many
as she hurries downstairs,
I am tempted to lick each one of her toothbrushes
I want to part their bristles and find out what it was I did wrong
watches close as I polish clean
every last hope
I spit my feelings in her sink
leave my toothbrush in the cup,
right next to her ex’s
and on her doorstep, in the sunlight,
like fresh mint.

