pins | hershel burgh


i. The stinging hum of blood re-circulating I killed all my nerves, for what but a moment of comfort from my tormentor. A meat cleaver to fingers joint by joint by joint, no grasp but gore and I felt none, a man fileted ii. Or cleaned. A deer you shot with your dad, you told me once, the bright lung-blood, the venison in your freezer. A quick death more humane than any slaughterhouse. Your duty, now that the woods have emptied of wolves iii. In heaven, sexless angels feed each other, hands stretched into lips that do not bite. The vision gone opaque for me, since I bit. Condemned to solitary kitchen tile where my body curls, stiff and shuddering with the buzz of skin coming alive

Hershel Burgh is a queer, Jewish trans man based out of Northwest Arkansas.  He lives with his partner in a one bedroom apartment that has no drawers and one cat.

Photo by Min An on

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