Self as Trench

Sami Helgeson

I once stood at the
Great Rift Valley. It
did not look different
from where I was
born.

I learned I was
exploited. My body a
mineral. Can feldspar
teach me to be pink
again.

I was told and did not
know it before that
moment. I did not cry.
Only nodded like a
thank you.

I once stood at the
Great Rift Valley.
Where earth does the
splits violent and
sedate. This breaking
apart is considered
constructive.

I forget what they said
about drugs in sixth
grade health class. I
remember what joy
feels like. I create it
like plastic.

I heard the loon sing
on the lake. A
different time. I
discovered what it
means to be so calm
in danger.

I once stood at the
Great Rift Valley.
It was not unlike my
incisors. Centrally
expanding. Forgetting
to exist.

I think it is important
to get it right in the
telling. There is a
wrong way to reveal
the bad thing. Not
only science is
iterative.

I remember the word
titrate. We can only 
be certain sometimes.

I once stood at the
Great Rift Valley. It
looked like the rest of
life.

Sami Helgeson was raised in the Driftless Region of Wisconsin, an area untouched by the glaciers of the last ice age. Helgeson calls upon her background in earth science and personal experiences of trespasses on the body to examine the parallels of a person and a landscape. Sami’s poetry has been recently published with the River & South Review, Barzakh Magazine, and Harbor Review. Their work has received support from the Lighthouse and Kenyon Review Writers Workshops.