we sit in a high-backed booth the day before, pretend we’re Calgary tourists I’ve always been a diner girl I tell you as I pick up a sweet potato fry, set it down we unfold a city map plan our drive to Green’s Lapidary but the lure of the stones can’t divert me from this […]
1. beds have you noticed that in the beginning beds are too big oceans fields skies of space over there the two of you prefer to nestle share each other’s breath throughout the long night’s dance later the bed shrinks contracts from cold you cling to the edge lie still as a corpse your breath […]
you’re still a newcomer they told me when I’d been here twenty years. I hadn’t walked in on the trail through muskeg, behind an oxcart we drove in, the kids worn I on the precipice of panic looking for water. I could only see land sky the new job I was raised on the bay, […]
a woman who lives where aurora dances where earth sleeps beneath snow for half the year this woman may be swept to her destiny the heat before she left she announced I’m going to fall in love the desert will hold me she finds small hot stones fills her pockets, her bag the weight grounds […]
I first saw her as I walked along the gravel road out by the wheat fields something drew my eye shrouded in dust, cradled by bleached grasses feathers muddy and broken she is silent though her black bill remains open her skull is hollow now empty sockets a tunnel for the light in death’s dance […]
