How To Perform a Tracheotomy

By HOLLIE HARDY
The first thing you need to know is that the tracheotomy 
is an act of desperation and/or violence that should only be 
committed when there is no other option.

SOME CIRCUMSTANCES WHEN IT MIGHT BE NECESSARY TO PERFORM A TRACHEOTOMY:


The victim is choking on a thin mint
and is unresponsive to the “hind-lick” maneuver.
The victim is your lover and he/she has disappointed you
by eating the last Girl Scout cookie.
The victim wrote “Bitch” on the side of your car with a sharpie.
The victim has an irritating, high-pitched voice or a British accent.
The victim is a stranger that fell in front of a bus
wearing shoes you could never afford.

WHAT YOU WILL NEED:

A razor blade, knife, scissors, or hammer
A straw, a pen, or a stale Red Vine®

There will not be time for sterilization of your tools,
so do not bother; infection is the least of your worries.

HOW TO PROCEED:

1. Kneel over the victim and whisper,
  Do you know what you’ve done to deserve this?

2. Move your finger about one inch down the neck
until you feel a bulge.

3. Seize the tool of your choosing, and grasp it with both hands,
high above your head.

4. Aim for the bulge and be brave.

5. Insert the breathing straw into the bloody hole.

6. If you have done the procedure correctly,
you should be able to remove the victim’s shoes.

7. Run away.

 

Hollie Hardy is an MFA poet at San Francisco State University, former Editor-in-Chief of Fourteen HIlls: The SFSU Review, and co-host of the monthly reading series Saturday Night Special, an East Bay Open Mic, in Berkeley, California. Her recent work is published in Eleven Eleven, sParkle & bLINK, A Sharp Piece of Awesome, Parthenon West Review, One Ded Cow, Transfer, Milvia Street, and other journals. Hardy’s Survival Poems have titles ruthlessly appropriated from The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook.

[Purchase your copy of Issue 02 here.]

How To Perform a Tracheotomy

Related Posts

The Old Current Book Cover

January 2025 Poetry Feature #1: Brad Leithauser

BRAD LEITHAUSER
I’m twenty-seven, maybe too old to be / Upended by this, the manifold / Foreignness of it all, the fulfilling / Queer grandeur of it all, // But we each come into ourselves / As each can, in our own / Unmetered time (our own sweet way), / And for me this day’s more thrilling

December 2024 Poetry Feature #2: New Work from our Contributors

PETER FILKINS
All night long / it bucked and surged / past the window // and my breath / fogging the glass, / a yellow moon // headlamping / through mist, / the tunnel of sleep, // towns racing past. // Down at the crossroads, / warning in the bell, / beams lowering // on traffic before / the whomp of air

heart orchids

December 2024 Poetry Feature #1: New Work from our Contributors

JEN JABAILY-BLACKBURN
What do I know / about us? One of us / was called Velvel, / little wolf. One of us / raised horses. Someone / was in grain. Six sisters / threw potatoes across / a river in Pennsylvania. / Once at a fair, I met / a horse performing / simple equations / with large dice. / Sure, it was a trick, / but being charmed / costs so little.