babyteeth fall '24 issue 2

Felix Allen

by Stewie Goon

Felix Allen

On the way home: some shaky line of nonexistence hung at my collarbones like a G string discarded, that is to say, Garrotte, choking without intent to kill— dripping o my chin, bloodthirsty abatement, deep and warm and whatever I have wanted it to be—lightheaded and breathless again, allowing pools under my tongue in steaming dark. Slowly, gently, through cracks between teeth, wetting every recess on its way down, pores highlighted under one faithless streetlamp—on an arched neck, stubble and a few drops of water both seizing, brought to coughing abandon in the middle of the sidewalk. All of me, made lowly and real: ngers ragged with adoration, static stamped relentless into the corners of my eyes—

ere’s a raring carelessness, earpierced apathy which bruises my forearms and tears my eyes back into the light, always. e wet-mouthed thought that you have never wanted me more, like I am only the more beautiful for my mouth on the straw, like shaking hands and unsteady breath could really amount to anything at all—I’m not conveying it well, it was really violent, and I have tended towards apophenia before but this time the headspinning and the dilation were both more than themselves, unlike hands on the doorframe or bits of speech made sleeping—no, these were something else, no so reports but still somehow tenderer than anything, gentle and biting and bloody, too, so my nails were crusty and dark on the way to bed. to be clear I was just trying to drink water and walk at the same time

by Cecilia Berkey

by Maddie Burge

“WRONG GOURD”

A boy! A boy! This boy I know Who sits and coughs, below, below; Inside I fall, outside it snows.

Outside it snows, inside I fall; In love! Asleep! And, damn it all A stranger rings. Decline the call.

A stranger rings, I try to sleep, I think of him below, I weep, And wish him to this room I keep.

I wish him here! For we once kissed — Then, lo! I see a message missed — Some crowns! Crowns and a grocery list!

Some crowns! I don my jacket and I take my crowns in mittened hands I’m Willy’s-bound! I’ve changed my plans.

I’m Willy’s-bound! That’s no great loss My plans were just to do a wash. Consult the list: tomater. Squash.

Tomat I know, but squash? A gap

In my Swedish — consult my translate app — I text him, but he’s taking a nap —

A nap! A squash! I start to freak In the produce aisle, my knees are weak, I default to the other language I speak,

And think, a pumpkin! well, that’s fne A gourd may be what’s on his mind. I fll my basket, get in line,

Then spend my crowns, walk home and say “I got you a pumpkin, by the way, If it’s not what you wanted, I can pay —“

“You got me a pumpkin?” I bet he’s glad he knew me — But then, a crushing message, truly, “Squash means zucchini — I’m making ratatouille.”

ELSA SNOWBECK

“go away” by alice tian the hero turned away when the villain entered the cell. they were best friends. ex-best friends. she no longer had the strength to hide the pain, the fear, the betrayal. “i’m sorry,” the villain whispered— watching the hero’s shoulders shake with silent sobs—“i really thought someone would save you”