I Didn’t Know Who I Was Yet
Or I wasn’t yet
able to express myself
the way I truly wanted to
unless I walked around in circles
in the basement, telling stories
inside my own head.
As a little girl, I had a voice when I sang
other people’s words.
In classrooms, I was overly accommodating
to other’s rules. We were supposed to
do as we were told.
When the choir instructor
insisted we must stand still,
stay in one place
during the entire rehearsal,
I felt like I had to stand still.
I couldn’t control my own
bladder and peed my pants.
I walked with my soiled back
against the wall
towards the bathroom, embarrassed,
attempting to convince myself
nobody else could see me.
I didn’t exist visually.
I didn’t exist individually.
I was just another set piece,
designed by somebody else
and now ruined.
If you try to make yourself invisible one way,
then you become invisible in other ways too.
For years, I couldn’t see myself
unless I stared at myself in the mirror.
Juliet Cook doesn’t fit inside an Easy-Bake Oven and rarely cooks. Her poetry has appeared in a peculiar multitude of literary publications. She is the author of numerous poetry chapbooks, most recently including “red flames burning out” (Grey Book Press, 2023), “Contorted Doom Conveyor” (Gutter Snob Books, 2023), “Your Mouth is Moving Backwards” (Ethel Zine & Micro Press, 2023), “REVOLTING” (Cul-de-sac of Blood, 2024), and “Blue Stingers Instead of Wings” (Pure Sleeze Press, 2025). Her most recent full-length poetry book, “Malformed Confetti” was published by Crisis Chronicles Press. You can find out more at https://julietcook.weebly.com/.
