Under World by Jacqueline West
No one knows what he’s doing
down there
with his acetylene and sparks
and gouged iron vises
No one knows why he disappears
day after day
into the dragon huff of torches
the hammer of hard things
against harder things or why
he comes back
skin glazed gray, hands scarred
and every whisker smelling like sulfur
No one watches him bend
over cups of fire
the searing eyes of crucibles
staring back into his own
No one sees him shaping bars
and blades
pouring white-hot waterfalls
into black bones
but he must be happy
down there
alone in his burning kingdom
patiently building his own hell
Bio
Jacqueline West’s poetry has appeared in Mythic Delirium, Strange Horizons, Dreams & Nightmares, Enchanted Living, and Star*Line. She is also the author of the New York Times-bestselling middle grade series The Books of Elsewhere, the YA horror novel Last Things, and several other award-winning books for young readers. A three-time nominee for both the Rhysling Award and the Pushcart Prize, Jacqueline lives with her family in Red Wing, Minnesota. Find her on Instagram @jacqueline.west.writes or on her website.
Author's note
Imagining ancient deities or immortals interacting with our modern world always fascinates me. In this piece, I tried to create a domestic, present-day version of Vulcan or Hephaestus, god of fire and the forge. I pictured him hidden away in a basement, puttering over his projects—potentially harmless, potentially very dangerous.
