Golden Circle

The driver reeks of coffee grains

and bad decisions

Suicide rates

are up in Reykjavik, he exhales,

We’re here


Gulfoss or the Golden Waterfall

second largest in the world

or Europe

hisses at me from the taxi door

felt tips stain my face

not covered by layers of water resistance


she told me about drowned

women in Thingvadelit

how they were falsely romanticized

she saw the light dance off the ocean

from an unconfined oil spill


Climbing down through molten rock

whispers echo

I slip

my shoes a modern inconvenience

the rigged edges trail

there isn’t more than a thin

string separating my self and the abyss

still hissing


splattering on my lungs

I wish I were made of whalebone

smooth and impermeable

like black rocks spread

across the ground

on smooth edges


she was an oenophile

she warned me of jade moss

covering holes in the hollow rock

that used to carry life through

its veins but since

it’s only keeping up appearances


I see her face in the mist

my Jesus on toast

the second largest waterfall

spits at me

I could almost hear it laugh


– Sara Karim

Astana, Kazakhstan

My name is Sara Karim and I am a psychology student at Southern New Hampshire University. I have previously published my work in The Underground (forthcoming), Blue Monday Review, Madras Mag, Teen Ink, and the American Aesthetic. I am deeply inspired by the human reflection of the natural world.