Welcome to “Poetry at The Arts Fuse.” A new poem every Thursday.

I Somehow Swallowed the Knife

I didn’t mean for
it to happen.

I was chopping potatoes
on a cutting board when
I suddenly held the knife
to my mouth.

I felt the starch on my lips
as the blade’s tip painted my lips
like Queen Amidala, a red line
directly down the center.

I slowly moved the knife further
into my mouth, a queer smile
forming on my face as it passed
my teeth and pressed against
the seed hidden in my tonsils.

It burst through my tonsils,
pouring its nectar down my throat
as I experienced the double murder
of my gag reflex and my voice box.

I tapped my sternum to give it
that final push down into my stomach.
I could feel it floating in the acid
before its weight vanished with a gurgle.

I left the kitchen as I was no longer hungry.
Once I laid on my couch,
I wondered what pushed me to do
such a thing, and why the remaining
knives in my block seemed so tantalizing.

Title comes from a riff from the Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode “The Final Sacrifice”.

Alex Carrigan (he/him) is a Pushcart-nominated editor, poet, and critic from Alexandria, VA. He is the author of Now Let’s Get Brunch (Querencia Press, 2023) and May All Our Pain Be Champagne (Alien Buddha Press, 2022).

Note: Hey poets! We seek submissions of excellent poetry from across the length and breadth of contemporary poetics. See submission guidelines here. The arbiter of the feature is the magazine’s poetry editor, John Mulrooney.

— Arts Fuse editor Bill Marx