Why Boob Jobs are Out | Sunday Life

Art by Chance Jarvis (2019 archive)

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                                                                                          Two           rows       of    lined      teeth, 

                                                                                           outmost                 molded,              laid

                                                                                           piece     by  piece,  brick   and   mortar:

                                                                                           seamless.    Fill       the     chip    earned

                                                                                           from    a    line     drive     at      twelve,

                                                                                           crookedness    veiled     with    replicas,

                                                                                           molars      collected     from     a    place

                                                                                           where             cars         are          made

                                                                                           A                       smiling                      ad

                                                                      to tell me I am strange.

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                                                                                           Framed           at              the          Tate:

                                                                                           ultra        -        modern             woman,

                                                                                           [name redacted],     on  operating  table

                                                                                           face       torn       cheek       to     crown,

                                                                                           peeled  back,    wet   on    the     inside,

                                                                                           squeeze       toys   I   burst    as    a   girl

                                                                                           recalled         later          for         toxins.

                                                                                           I     see    her     on   TV    in  a    month

                                                                                           swollen     thin,      sharp,     a     scalpel,

                                                                      to tell me I am strange.

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                                                                                            I don’t  know where  flesh is discarded,

                                                                                            where     veneers   are   kept   at   night. 

                                                                                            Jars    lined    along    a   wall,   labeled,

                                                                                            teeth,       cheeks,            gut,          ribs,

                                                                                            alongside  canned tuna,   bottled water,

                                                                                            glass        broken        in       emergency

                                                                                            when       they   decide   they want their

                                                                                            teeth,        cheeks,           gut,          ribs,

                                                                                            replanted         and       sewn       inside:

                                                                                            things          that         are          strange.

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