Volatile jerks of her
Dusty white neck does nothing to the
Chin-length hair,
Brown and then black—
            Molded in its shape,

            Never fluid when I see her—
Freeze frames
Flip comics.

Every third blink
She’s plastered against my
Back and rigid arms.

Every second blink,       she hisses—
Straight into my pupils
                        You know what I am,
                        You know who I am.

Eight-hundred blinks— her flaking neck
            Pushes against my nose,
Every blink
I inhale powder until it escapes my mouth—breathing ashes,

                        Sinewy fingers pry my mouth open

            Until she burrows her holographic hair into
My pulsating throat,
            Climbing in.

            Eight-hundred breaths—her feet
                        Pump my lungs,

You know, you know.

Su Cho is from Indiana and currently attends Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia. Her poems have appeared in Alloy, The Emory Pulse, and are forthcoming in *82 Review.