Category: Issue 14.1

budding blossoms… a love poem for no one in particular

flower show the woman with the glads undoes a button

first spring ramble a wedge of geese pries the sky open

winter’s end the way the light changes when I’m with her

daybreak the cold edge of the bed

pink sunrise the scones he used to bring

my apology hard pears left to ripen

another spring still waiting for your voice

consolation in each raindrop the sea

an irregular pulse earlier each year bluebirds

Earth Day the world in a grain of polymer  

never before and never again . . . cloud’s shadow

beyond the black stump a shiver of ghost gums

winter’s grip — remembering what it’s like to be touched

the lies i believe in forsythia buds

lake effect snow — he has an answer for everything

separation a crow’s caw across an empty field

passing strangers on a rain-drenched road we turn back to ask their stories . . . finding only mist

crescent moon how the other half have always lived

job centre — touched by the misery of my case worker  

Elsewhere All the balloons that touched the ceiling now sink low enough for the children to bat them like inflatable clowns. Life retreats to the corners. Helium cheers

art house films the life before I had kids

my mother’s recipes what’s missing and what’s gone

I find an old letter from my mother dead four years — we’re doing fine, she says; we’ve had a little rain

familiar tune my children’s voices above the mountain stream  

ripples on the pond ~ small talk

bird song – an incomplete sentence each time

gibbous moon — the blur of clay on a potter’s wheel

an evening of tangled thoughts . . . through branches even this rugged moon looks tattered at the edges     (originally appeared in American Tanka, June

wallpaper stripping the years of her life

obituary things about my father I never knew

mayfly no time to look back

dog-tagged the thin cold metal next to his heart

a sandstorm… calm only in the hourglass       (originally appeared in “The Mainichi,”  April 8, 2013)

drought the rain gauge two-tenths dust

Ooroo As I wait for the evening bus to my hometown, a stray sidles up to me, sniffing with a dusty nose and occasionally brushing it against my jeans. She then settles

woodsmoke and autumn leaves . . . in a dream I set out on a journey to find you again

escaping over the neighbour’s fence… purple lilacs

a dandelion amid vinca— our differing perspectives

living on the edge cattails

through eyes of rain leaf light

poetry reading the smell of humus in the drizzling rain

rainforest entering me the quiet

writing a haiku the bottom drops out  

from behind bars the moon pale faced too

against the blue the blue fly flies against the pane

endless sky the hawk’s gaze on its tether  

chardonnay . . . the scent of summer in a blue-throat’s song

purple clematis… changing her wardrobe into summer     (originally appeared in Shamrock Journal, Issue #26, 2013)

the longest day a sky blue Cadillac drives slowly by

warm winter afternoon the bike shop door locked

spring fever- in the parking lot her cycle rests on mine  

the town stud with the gold Olds room enough for the whole world beside him

kite string the hum of the wind in my hand

fingernail moon my mother sharpens her words

new galaxy a pomegranate splits its skin

back in time and space isn’t much matter

autumn equinox his ex gives him half a hug

July heatwave sugar peas lose their sweetness

August ends everything gone to seed

childhood song — the rhythm of women threshing grain

making a long story short fall

summer bonfire the Christmas tree lights up one last time     (originally appeared in Prune Juice, Issue 11, November 2013)

mistletoe our kiss lasts past the doorway

summer’s end — the secrets we wrote in the sand

freeze warning pulling the final carrots alone

ice storm chemotherapy postponed

last leaves – his white breath dissolves in the garden

end-of-season one after another the carnival lights blink out