One Poem from Jessica Myers

On Turning 16

My cake is fluorescent pink,
the frosting roses twinkle
unnatural in the light.
My sisters and I wait for guests,
talk about boys and movie stars,
the boxes wrapped in pink paper
sitting on the table.
We know no one will come.

Three days earlier,
when I walked into my parents’ room
and said My birthday is on Saturday,
I was reminded of my father’s
still pus blotted sickness.
I knew I would invite no one
to see his botched operation,
his stomach turned raw.
My mother had been redressing his wound.
Her back was to me,
her body a purposeful block.
She stopped a moment and turned towards me,
Already? she said,
her hands in latex gloves,
lightly dotted with blood.


Jessica Myers is Editor-In-Chief of No Teeth, a tri-weekly poetry journal. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from Chatham University. She has been published in Writers Bloc and Superficial Flesh.


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