Disaffiliation
by Donald Pasmore
I know how to light you on fire like
my organs—as a kid, I killed fish
wishing to trade places just
like the breath against lips
that starts a hiss
a groan lost past the teeth. I become
an uninvited sickness, re-
invented nerves and brain
I once was. I give up
the excuse, my heart
my organs—as a kid, I killed fish
wishing to trade places just
like the breath against lips
that starts a hiss
a groan lost past the teeth. I become
an uninvited sickness, re-
invented nerves and brain
I once was. I give up
the excuse, my heart
voting to give up
with M-80s, ignoring their
burning, each trace red jetsam
of a kiss coming
from a snake or
an artificial interloper
made of silicon and boron
that rips me from the boy
who kissed me and
won’t stop.
with M-80s, ignoring their
burning, each trace red jetsam
of a kiss coming
from a snake or
an artificial interloper
made of silicon and boron
that rips me from the boy
who kissed me and
won’t stop.
About the Author