Let these rejections serve as places to start
being jerked from my mother’s tit, slung
by torn artery into the bosom of a wolf.
The mispelled word that cost me my first
ride in a plane to Memphis, the time I got
popped with a twisted wet towel on bare ass
in 7th-grade gym just because someone
in the group stole another boy’s wallet.
I hate you, Coach Page, for harboring
such a riddled philosophy. The time my
mother caught me having sex with a neighbor
boy and said it would crush my father if he
knew. I was ready to jump out of the box
and look my future in the face. It ends well.
John Dorroh understands that words engage themselves with the soul. Four of his poems have been nominated for Best of the Net. Others have appeared in over 100 journals including Feral, River Heron, Pinyon, Burningword, The Orchards Poetry Journal, & North Dakota Quarterly. He had two chapbooks published in 2022.
