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Glass World

Višnja Milidragović

Glass world squeaky, still

streaks of softened light.

Eye gunk, like pebbles, cutting

hot with backache, barefoot,

parched. Now


With the bleach of morning sun,

I am moved to

wipe with Windex.


Morning colours are fuzzy,

wooly pixels,

cotton white

blanket, dried with yesterday’s binges:

Old coffee, 


or chocolate,               left unwashed.

Cavernous back,




Beige crumbs in

beige corduroy


of crusty hangover.

Hands start dusting again.


Afternoon, on the couch again.

Swept to the edges like broken glass at a party.



packed vacuum sucking air, the gray mass of the room,

cushions, walls


panting. Too soft,

too heavy to shatter now.

Ball up to sleep

        like a



Last night, corner jam.

Toe stub. Wailing

anger avalanche speed, crumbling

world, then scrunched face, wet

in shadow trees from the window

I saw red: a flickering

bulb, the television sleeping

and a sharp pang of loneliness.


Višnja Milidragović

Višnja Milidragović

Višnja Milidragović is a (creative nonfiction) writer and wanderer at heart (even when her body is in stillness). Born in Yugoslavia (current-day Bosnia), she now finds home on the traditional, ancestral, and unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh Nations (Vancouver, BC). Her work investigates belonging, both spiritual and visceral, through prisms of place, name, and identity. Her creative nonfiction writing has been shortlisted for The Malahat Review’s contest (2023) and The Humber Literary Review/CNFC contest (2021). She is currently writing her first book-length memoir, with support from a Canada Council for the Arts grant for early-career artists. Glass World is her first poem to be published.

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