She opens her eyes

and parts her lips

to reveal her gleaming white teeth.

Her eyes the good.

Her teeth the bad.


Eyes lock with mine and I am in the net.

Eyes like oceans,

eyes like opal,

eyes like embrace,

eyes like answered prayer.


Teeth like talons,

teeth like rusted razors, 

teeth like dirty uncut fingernails,

teeth like cracked mirrors,

teeth like solid flame.


She holds me in her gaze

as if her eyes were hands,

caressing ruddy unkempt cheeks,

eyes like dancing fire betray me

as she bares her teeth.


They sink into my amoral flesh,

exquisite pain as my blood flows,

my eyes flutter like an insect in death throes,

my heart gives in, then gives out

and my soul implodes like a dying star.


Eyes gleaming like guitar strings in the firelight.

False gods of almost surreal beauty.

Teeth ripping into me while I am dreaming,

exposing my sinew and muscle

and all of my lacking.


The sun rises.

Birds swoop down for crumbs.

Roses bloom in syncopated pantomime.

Snow silently blankets the hillside.

As eyes and teeth expose my lacking.


Learn more about John Tustin and view more of his work on his website at