You kicked over the chair I set out for you So I stood it upright again Four legs. Sturdy. If you would just sit, I think I would sit with you and we could talk. A visit. So normal And terrible Given who you are. Were. To me. You kick it down again, and I … Continue reading Lion Tamer
Creation
She looked at me knowingly and asked, “Are you a writer?” I sheepishly pulled the words that drifted from me, black against my fingertips, back under my skin. I could tell from her expression that she could still see them, stark like a startled freckle. “Yes,” I said, and in my voice I heard apology. … Continue reading Creation
Parents
Mother I wrote you a poem For Mother's Day, 2006. I made things up for you I thought you'd like to hear them. Gentle Kind I called you. Printed out in purple Your favourite colour. Tape to bind to construction paper A glue stick would be lumpy. I took a stamp from your scrapbook kit … Continue reading Parents
Dark chocolate and gin
Remember way back when, the time when I wouldn’t have existed, but if I had it would have been somewhere dark Sounds like jazz running down the bar, so deeply soaked into the stained wood that it is the varnish of improv I hear in my sleep. A darkness that tastes like a cherry nestled … Continue reading Dark chocolate and gin
Hunger
I fall asleep, stomach growling And it reassures me Like any periodic laceration A penance A comfort Reassurance that forgiveness may be mine. This strange thing in my guts That chews hungrily Eat up! I say. Enjoy. Take a nibble at my hips While you’re there But please, leave my mind Intact. Silly thing misheard … Continue reading Hunger
Olives
When people ask me what I miss most about you-- (They don't, but in my head they do) I say I miss the olives. The nonexistent theys smile, puzzled And I have an audience for my story now. I tell them about a cocktail bar where I sat in a black dress and high heels … Continue reading Olives
Leaves
The leaves are hanging themselves on flimsy branches that sometimes break. When they strike the ground it is gentle. No dramatic crash or thunder. Nearly silent, a softening. Eyelids, or the sound of footsteps walking away. Your body knows that sound I think. When I say that the leaves are hanging themselves, do not think … Continue reading Leaves
Before You Go
Promise me that before you go you'll make a sandwich. Any kind you like. Put on your favourite tv show or movie, characters you know and love. Before you go, wrap yourself in a warm blanket, one that smells like summer sun and grass. Place one hand on your cheek, Where mine would be if … Continue reading Before You Go
First
What I remember is the ache. Deep in my gut the knowledge that I was lost, that whatever map had lead me here would be no good to me ever again. And so I wrapped my arms around myself, the way you had wrapped around me that night, and I ached. I remember you made … Continue reading First
Dreams of Home
He pinned me down like a beetle on a board, face full of concern. “Why won’t you talk to me? I’m worried.” Little lightning bolts shot around just under the surface of my skin and I tried to think of what expression would be appropriate on my face in this moment. “Why does it matter? … Continue reading Dreams of Home
Gosh Darn Sunlight 