body teeth

sometimes i grow teeth between
the folds of my skin. the kind of hunger
our people are feeling has nowhere to go.
we bloom second heads. we dig holes
in the walls with our bare hands. 
the last apartment i lived in, everyone
threw themselves out the window
at least once a month. i saw my neighbors 
flying like bats in the dark. to become
a monster is to stay alive with lungs
in a world that steals your air.
i stand in the dark bathroom & see
my eyes glowing red. i consider scaling
a skyscraper & reaching to take a bite
out of the moon. lurking between 
the wayward trees, half of which
do not know where they are. i keep the teeth
i shed because i am convinced there is
a stronger version of me coming. one that
chews holes in cop car tires & breaks windows
of billionaire houses. i believe there is hope
because there are still monsters. as long as
we keep the teeth. keep the coals 
of velvet dark fear, they, just like us, 
do not get to escape. my favorite teeth
are the tiny ones. the ones for a baby monster.
i used to climb trees & sleep in them. 
once i fell out & struck my head so hard
that it rung like a bell. i woke up 
some beasts who long slept. they came
just for me. fed me flowers that tasted
like black licorice. when they smiled
we had the same mouths. not vengeful 
exactly but ready to return.