Issue 45.2

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
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.
ÃÛÌÒÓ°Ïñ the Author

Donald Pasmore is a junior English and Philosophy major at Salisbury University who has poems published or forthcoming in Harpur Palate, The Broadkill Review, The Shore, Third Wednesday, and The Inflectionist Review. In addition to being a student, he works two jobs and reads submissions for Poet Lore.