Justine Quammie Bassomb - Shaky Bolt

Shaky Bolt

Justine Quammie Bassomb

My boyfriend let me die once.

We were on our apartment rooftop on Central Park West and he decided it was time for me to go.

So I grabbed onto the only un-attachable thing in the vicinity. See, his arms and legs were both prosthetics from the war so when we’d argue I’d scratch his arms, and he’d mockingly say, “Sorry Darlin’, I don’t feel a thing.” And when I kicked his shins he simply unbuckled them and I’d tip over because how do you kick a leg with a disappearing act?

So here I am on top of this roof dangling from his dick knowing in my deepest pit that he cannot perform any more tricks.

But one more surprise, he drops his boxers and there it is a little screw that he unfastens and lets loose.

You might wonder how a dead person gives an account this good of the day she died, but maybe death is detachable too.

 

My boyfriend threw me off a building once.

We were on our apartment rooftop on Central Park West and he decided it was time for me to go. So I grabbed onto the only un-attachable thing in the vicinity. See, his arms and legs were both prosthetics from the war so when we’d argue and I’d scratch his arms, he’d mockingly say, “Sorry Darlin’, I don’t feel a thing” and when I kicked his shins he simply, unbuckled them and I’d tip over because how do you kick a leg that’s not there anymore?

So here I am on top of this roof dangling from his dick knowing in my deepest pit that he cannot disengage himself from this one. But one more surprise, he drops his boxers and there it is a little screw that he un-tightens and lets’ loose.

 You might analyze how a dead person gives an account this good of the day she died but maybe death is detachable too.