by Katie Pukash
The days seem to slide together like a slammed door.
I swear anxiety sits hostage in my marrow.
There is not enough red wine in the world
to solve the problem that is my chest.
Does my trauma have a name?
Should I give my trauma a name?
If I name my trauma will she follow me like an untimely ghost?
Like there is never a good time to confront the shell of a broken light bulb.
Ask the light bulb why it does not illuminate
right after you smash it into the ground.
The light bulb does not owe you an answer.
The light bulb does not owe you the last of its shine.
Sometimes I wish I could go home.
But then there are days like today
where home means nothing-
is just a location in which you had once kept yourself.
I will name my trauma
something for tomorrow.
Forget for a moment about the gap in my spine.
Light a candle and show this night that
I am the sun.
I have so much more glow left in my chest.
More than I ever thought.
Katie Pukash is a writer and poet based in Boise, Idaho. Her work has appeared in Rising Phoenix Review, Yay! LA, Ink&Nebula, among others. She has competed at three National Poetry Slam competitions as a member of Team Boise. She has seen Group Piece Finals Stage at the National Poetry Slam both in 2014 and 2018. Katie has a self published chapbook of love poems called Senecas and Stun Guns and a miniature chapbook of predictive text poems titled Press that Twice.
Artist: Jim Ford