A room, a possum, its body in formaldehyde
My right leg trembles the first time
It’s easy to trap a possum, just squeeze its tail, watch it squirm and
Since then I am so slippery, skin all wet between my
Stink. I hate that smell
I know you do because you told me
Stink. I came
I did so sobbing
My eyes could almost slip out their
Sockets are full of electricity, my wet a conveyer
Belts, I hate them, that click of silver. Hated it
Now and I hate my mouth and I wince
Before your hand
Because what is worse than
Lips so pink
And full of teeth, what is
worse? And so I
Stay. A possum in a bucket
Fur floated to the top.
You said he was your best friend
His bones a string across your neck
White and glistening and
Dripping
MINA KHAN is a first-gen Pakistani-Korean American. They write into the confusion of violence and tenderness. They are the author of the chapbook, Mon— monuments, monarchs & monsters (Sputnik & Fizzle 2020), and are published or forthcoming in the the Berkeley Poetry Review, The Margins, Lammergeier, and more. They are a current MFA Candidate at Columbia University.