Gold Teeth, a poem by Abhinav Aradhi

 

Gold Teeth

If Sister gets struck by a star,

Should she go rent a car,

Then shift all the way to the angel’s city?

She’s really mature now, you see.

 

And if Sister vanishes in the night,

Past an erratic car, and a camouflaged wife,

Should she sell her soul to her agent, that devil?

He said she’s really mature now, you see.

 

She’s walking roads paved of ecstatic girls,

Ones who were pretty like her,

And had massive dreams like her,

Dreams that spanned the sky and bloodied the road.

 

She’s the perfect age of seventeen,

And she’s wearing some slutty thing,

From Mother’s secret little closet in the shed back home.

Sister’s all dolled up, you know.

 

She’s got makeup on,

Lipstick that has adhered to her mouth,

And given her the ravenous look of a starving artist.

Her eyeshadow gives the impression of a woman undone by the world.

 

They only want you when you’re seventeen,

Because your mind’s stuck in its senior year,

And they only want you when you’re seventeen

Because you’ll listen to the first fast-talker you meet.

 

Listen here, young lady,

If you want to make it big around here,

You’ve gotta accept

That performing arts are the fields of punishment.

 

Sign the contract,

And launch the trebuchet,

And watch your horizon sail over you

As it sinks behind enemy lines.

 

Who’s the enemy?

Is it you, darling,

For coming to this town of devils?

The boss’d like to meet a girl like you in his office…

 

Come along honey,

And stop chattering your teeth,

Because from the moment you stepped onto this hallowed ground,

Your contract was signed, copied, and firmly sealed.

 

 The shine of the city’s glitz, like a mafioso with golden teeth.

Sister’s a girl with a gleaming disposition.

There’s neon lights in the eyes of the agencies,

Like the tears of those ruined by the fall of a clapperboard.

 

CUT!

(Her face off).