AJ Romriell
so i’ll consider the socket on the wall instead,
the socket & the fork in my hand, consider
jabbing the metal inside—my head—his head—
can i call it a mercy killing
if everyone else makes it out alive?
he made himself a ghost
a week after he killed me, after he’d sworn
he’d break me in half if i let him & i
let him come inside: naked & biting &
broken, my god, this demon, slit deep in
a liquified body, melting pill bottles
& dropping them in mailboxes, the front porch,
my slippery palms & this is what lingers:
his breath on my skin, this blood-white cell,
all that stays here when he doesn’t,
the bed, the light, my body—remains
AJ Romriell is the author of the essay collection Wolf Act (forthcoming from University of Wisconsin Press, 2025). His prose and poetry have been featured in Black Warrior Review, Brevity, New Delta Review, and elsewhere. Originally from Utah, he is now a Presidential Fellow at The Ohio State University where he writes about video games, fairy tales, apocalypses, HIV, and more. Catch him at ajromriell.com.