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IN CONVERSATION
WITH A PROFESSOR

DONALD PASMORE

If the clicking of my fragmented head ties me
to you so you can smell the growth of rust 
across my mind, how can you refuse to rope us into one

knot, ribbons searing across our skin the way water trickles
into a parched mouth, our breath inches from broken, impulsive ideas
we feasted on together. The grass rises out of the earth

because you give it life, because you don’t care we drop empty 
to the ground from the severed edges of poems 
that brought us close—once made our blood hold still.

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Donald 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. He grew up in Delaware and aspires to become a college professor.

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