Jody Zolli

I fished back with my tongue
withdrew the gnarled clot
of buttercup-yellow hair
from between two molars
and spat

taking chipped-nail care
I scrape the iris-blue eyeshadow
from my razor-sharp teeth
and pause, amazed
that I was not consumed
by the ideal

sensing the weight
of radish-red pumps
in my solar plexus
I sigh
absently spinning
an ivory hairbow
between five tired fingers
exhaling the subtle fragrance
of some of Chanel’s finest