The olfa
against your palm
a length of carpet.

Fibres crack against the steel: vertebrae snapping.

Embedding the blade
uncovers a memory:
an eighth grade dissection,
where a scalpel split a frog.

But when you slit
the belly
of the rug,

no coiled guts
greet you,
only the flat scent of clay:

an antidote to formaldehyde.

~ Emily Ursuliak

Emily Ursuliak grew up in the rolling hills southwest of Bentley, Alberta, but now calls Calgary home. She recently completed an MA in English at the University of Calgary where she’s been working on her first novel and her first collection of poems. You can find out more about Emily at:

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