Svetlana Litvinchuk

Seraph

I submerge my hand in the stream and it transforms into a fish. It guides me under and I follow it to a depth unfamiliar to these rivers. The heron never needs to wash his bill twice; the fish is always clean. Last I ventured into these woods, I saw the axe that numbered my days. I hope to find it here again. I hope to learn to sharpen it. The two antlers we shared between the three of us crown my face, tilting in a constant state of seeking rebalance. Our roots yearn for a flattering death. They set forth like a unit of tadpoles seeking something I can’t name among this world of the living. A seraph sits on the kingly throne, asking to be ruled. I offer what I’ve lost and ask her to hatch it like an egg. She grows another pair of wings and then another. Then it finally happens. Hardboiled egg. Eggshell. Citric acid. The inside becomes so translucent that the light finds its way in. Muck on the bottom of this stream commands me to rise, begin anew. The river is sated with the memory of my once-round belly having been a home to many fish.

Svetlana Litvinchuk graduated from University of New Mexico. She is the author of a poetry chapbook, Only a Season(Bottlecap Features, 2024) and a forthcoming full-length poetry collection (spring 2026). Nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net, her poetry appears in swamp pink, About Place, Flyway, ANMLY, Sky Island Journal, Arkana, and elsewhere. She is the Associate Editor and Reviews Editor with ONLY POEMS and is serving as an Editor for Rockvale Review in 2025. Originally from Kyiv, Ukraine, she now tends her garden in Missouri. Find her on Instagram @s.litvinchuk or at www.svetlanalitvinchuk.com.