Over the phone
you don’t have to close
your eyes for me
to be American.
In Rochester I flushed pills,
and not once was I thankful.
I never told you about this day
dream I’ve had for years: a man
is holding a nail gun
to my temple,
I’m papermaching my face
he’s waiting for me to be ready
to display. Blink once he’s back.
My hands have been caked
in flour and obituaries for much too long.
Sean Cho A. is the Associate and Social Media Editor for THRUSH Poetry Journal and an MFA candidate at the University of California Irvine. His work can be ignored or future-found in Pleiades, Salt Hill, The Journal, Sporklet and elsewhere. Sean’s manuscript Not Bilingual was a finalist for the Write Bloody Publishing Poetry Prize.
Photography by: Dan Meyers