among the denizens of the bus,

i could rest easy in the heat,

let my irises melt into my brain

and down to my aorta,

slipping through my esophagus,

stirring with stomach acids,

pre-shit and shit, before

mixing with jism, coming

out, loading my femoral artery,

turning to toe-jam saturated lint,

seeping through creases

of folded metal and plastic, filling

crevasses and ravines of asphalt-patched

streets, creating grease marks

that get caught in tire treads,

squirting me into sidewalk drains, 

sewers full of rat shit and baby

crocodiles. i could sleep right

now, but my stop is coming up.

uncle's cast

fishing in Alaska,

1989,

my uncle’s cast

caught my collar

and pierced my skin.

i cussed,

screamed,

shit! shit!

hearing what came out,

i looked up

and peered apologetically,

my mouth open with hook

through my gills,

eyes wide,

breath short,

hoping my words had

tiptoed past his ears

and into wind-chill.

my uncle looked down,

apologetically,

and told me,

it’s okay to say shit.

Edward J. Kim is pursuing an MFA in poverty at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, where he fights the constant dangers of sanity and a healthy sex life. In his off time he enjoys noodling and cleaning out his ears with a chewed toothpick. After school, he plans on moving; the rest is up in the air.