Blood Markers / Dark Light by Juliet Cook

Blood Markers

What is a head hunter anyway?
Are they looking for the prettiest 
heads they can find? 
Or the ripest lines

of flesh to be removed,
cannibalized, hung on a trophy,
visually dissected and revised,
eaten up, spit out, torn into broken debris,
then quickly replaced.

An old fashioned cosmetic surgery
stains paper with blood,
crosses off the stains
with un-magic markers.

They want to shorten the expiration date
of individual colors,
collect an arsenal of implants, implements,
knives, used body parts to devour,
then pick apart a younger face. 






Dark Light

Coughing Anne Sexton out of my mouth 
in a flaming sneeze filled with fire and light
to bring the depressed and deceased back
to life. Then I will hang her tiny head
stuck to facial tissue on top of the
refrigerator until her head grows 
large enough to create a new vase.

Then her body will emerge from the incinerator. 
Ashes will turn into dark flowered trees.
New eyes will open inside the branches

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 www.JulietCook.weebly.com.

Cheerleader Cop by Juliet Cook

She locked me in the car, told me I had to listen
to the song, "Don't Worry, Be Happy" on repeat.
She told me I had to learn to smile
all the time, even if my smile was fake.

Who tries to lock someone else inside her own tiny space
of rights and wrongs and toned down emotions
and tell someone else what their face should look like
while being forced to listen to a popular song
that I told her was not my own style at all?

She doesn't understand my style and I don't understand her.
She wants me to stop worrying, stop thinking
my own thoughts, stop feeling my own feelings.
Stop being yourself. Be me. Be me. Be me.

Be the pretty cheerleader dream I want you to be.
You came out of my womb, I think
you can at least try to get my dance moves right.
Bend your legs into the correctly proportioned shape.
Place your arms in the right position or I'll lock them
behind your back and then cut them off.




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 www.JulietCook.weebly.com.