Even now I am planning something. I wonder if anyone else has cried in this particular dentist’s chair. Every thought that comes into my head exits moments later. That’s why I must write it all down. Watch me destroy my body. I will fill it up with the kinds of wines she liked. Look at my hair move slight in the wind just before I fall. When I turn my head my eyes get bigger, my sockets recess and get deeper. I can hardly shadow them; it is like sticking a Q-tip into my brain. None of this is important. I wonder how I will write a novel in my later years. I wonder if I will have later years.
About the author:
Brett Elizabeth Jenkins lives and writes in Saint Paul. She is the author of the chapbook Ether/Ore, and co-author of the e-book Love Stories/ Hate Stories. Look for her work in Beloit Poetry Journal, PANK, Potomac Review, and elsewhere.