Tag Archives: home
dundas.
present. everyone was dancing in the parking lot of mac’s milk and there was a sing-a-long, or something, but i can’t remember the song. i had asked you for something, like change for a coffee or a cigarette and you … Continue reading
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left without.
his sprawling awning hangs, wrong degrees on broken arms or knees left without skin, metal shifted with the rain, the screen can’t close since summer it stands open to the porch
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anniversary!
today is january 6th, 2011! aka the first anniversary of our apartment fire. it’s also a completely new year, and 2011, and the year of jesslyn, and so i’m looking forward to a fresh start. our home doesn’t feel like … Continue reading
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and lace.
i’ve made attempts to fix the folds, last summer’s unexpected stitches torn strips of tape cut down the middle, crooked with dull knives, and scraps of string and lace
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nerves.
side swept behind curtains, some stranger’s window or silhouette of home left to dry, gather flies, left fumbling for family in blind, trunks of cars who stutter, struggle for the high way
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shoulder.
at the back of my shoulder old cloth slips away, follows your eyes to the floor, tripping on cords over acres inside stalest thresholds, grounds glued by always under standing sides, the backs of shoulders caving to a touch
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main-macnab
our pottery unwound by wooden ducks and swans in restaurant mirrors, their exchange of rings passed on through documents, through files, through testimonies shaped by ever-careful hands
Filed under poem tree
