Joelle's teeth: the teeth that have been up to things she didn't know
long rows of all canine teeth, tapered and sharp, with then more rows of canines behind them, in reserve. The countless rows of the teeth are all sharp and strong and unblackened but tinged at the tips with an odd kind of red, as of old blood, the teeth of a creature that carelessly tears at meat. These are teeth that have been up to things she hasn’t known about
Context
The body-as-archive pushed to nightmare. In the dream Joelle looks into the mirror and finds her own mouth full of "rows of all canine teeth... more rows of canines behind them, in reserve," tipped red "as of old blood, the teeth of a creature that carelessly tears at meat." They're "teeth that have been up to things she hasn't known about" — the body has a life and an appetite the self disowned, filed away in the flesh, and it surfaces as a predator's dentition the owner never authorized. The archive isn't neutral; it's carnivorous, and it was hers all along.