She looked not-quite-right
at nine, wearing fangs—
I can only describe it as baffling,
her mouth botched with them,
her hair in tangles. The shoppers
stared. It was almost October 31^st,
in America. She slept with them half
in that night, swore they would keep
her safe. When they fell on the pillow
next to her, they seemed to glint
in the sharp moon-light—
little plastic knives.

Alexandra Umlas is a recent graduate of the MFA Poetry program at California State University, Long Beach. She has been published in Rattle, The Rise Up Review, and Shrew Literary Magazine, among others. You can find her work at alexandraumlas.com