Because their song is vibrant and pretty
right now whereas my song is quiet, invisible
to almost everyone else even though
it sometimes explodes inside
my own mind or across
the page or within an overpopulated
unorganized screen until
the computer dies or else I
become a repetitive mess,
page after page of dead birds,
even though I didn't kill them.
I tried to express myself to them,
then banged against the wall
on the outside of a house that didn't belong
to me. Landed on lawn that will not recognize
my song or realize what was on the inside.
Maybe I can't sing without being drawn down
towards destruction or envisioning
inevitable death. Obliterated innards
spewed out on ground which is not mine.
Juliet Cook doesn't fit inside an Easy-Bake Oven and rarely cooks. Her poetry has appeared in a peculiar multitude of literary publications. She is the author of numerous poetry chapbooks, most recently including "red flames burning out" (Grey Book Press, 2023), "Contorted Doom Conveyor" (Gutter Snob Books, 2023), "Your Mouth is Moving Backwards" (Ethel Zine & Micro Press, 2023), "REVOLTING" (Cul-de-sac of Blood, 2024), and "Blue Stingers Instead of Wings" (Pure Sleeze Press, 2025). Her most recent full-length poetry book, "Malformed Confetti" was published by Crisis Chronicles Press. You can find out more at https://julietcook.weebly.com/.
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