I boiled and bit my language into place
with cheap plastic teeth guards from C V S.
I sucked in my cheeks like a fish’s face,
and pooled tap water spit in my mouth
like blood so thermo-soft ridges filled
in toothy gaps missing in my education,
class, and background. I spit in the sink,
and tried not to wonder too much if it
was carcinogenic as I pressed on my jaw
and realigned my mandible along
the company line. I checked the mirror,
ran a finger along my plasticized teeth
and ordered myself not to bite through.
They put down rabid animals, you know.
Code-Switching, a sonnet
Lavinia Darr is the penname of a disabled queer graduate of Johns Hopkins University. They live in Baltimore with their parrot-cat and can probably be found in a museum.