K a t i e L o n g o f o n o
Explosive Ordinance Disposal
It comes down to fire or bombs
and he chose bombs, which grow
from fire, anyway. He'll stay
down south to deconstruct
wires. He says he'll look
for them while he's swimming.
I thought he said sleeping—
he says he'll do that, too.
He's printing a clock across his chest
even though explosives today
don't really look like that.
One day he'll hit zero
and infinity, spiral in a cloud
of dust and bone. I'm glad
I'm not in love with somebody
like him. I need a body
that lives, not the promise
of a steady burn.
guest editor: Sara Biggs Chaney