BY KATARINA VUCKOVIC
Copyright is held by the author.
I. Rejection
When an elevator breaks
in the throat-shaft
electric-glands fire,
shaft purples under
the surface of the skin.
Accipiter slices auger
sharp precipice
breath clenches.
Shrapnel blocks
the flow of oxygen
to the brain. Intestines
labyrinth, twist, burn.
Circuits fire.
II. Acknowledgment
Jaw clenches — but more
than that brain recognizes
jaw clenches, throat-
shaft opens half-an inch
four buttons dangle
off a broken circuit
a little girl tries to
press them all at once.
III. Acceptance
No rush to fix, do, fix.
Childhood curiosity bubbles
in throat-shaft — will metal
expand and burst?
Tears grease shivs
and spools, no good
or bad just is.
Metal bucket clasped
to metal chain releases
a torrent
of blue-green
oxygen.
IV. Rejoicing
Throat-shaft vibrates
a gentle glow.
Mouth softens
around the edges
like waves to sea
glass, throat opens
towards
the inner light.
***
Katarina is a poet and writer of fiction. She is working towards becoming an editor. Katarina published her first short story, “Departure,” in The New Quarterly in 2022. She received two Eden Mills Writers Festival poetry awards, and recently completed a poetry mentorship through Diaspora Dialogues. She lives by the Eramosa River with her husband and two daughters, where she spends most of her time in the woods running Village Loom, a nature connection program for children.
