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The poplar

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Sometimes we hurt ourselves, we scratch ourselves, we bleed — for a simple joy... All I wanted to do was to find the poplar again — the tree of my young arms, of my budding breasts. My fingers used to circle around its bold and vigorous waist, but in the…

Summer Waters

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A lifeboat came by in the night, And I finally saw we were sinking.

The Love Story of Me (non-fiction and should be disqualified)

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To find myself in a straight relationship which challenges my communications skills and tries my patience while improving my status among my peers and family.

Acceptance is to her a phenomenon

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You were given blame for action as experience by cause and effect now. If you take apart blame and even forgiveness is too rigid. She thinks of that purpose as to give men sexual destiny.

Hands Like White Porcelain

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Jesus is for sale. But he’s heavy.

This is Why We Can Never Have Nice Things

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At age eleven, I murder the coffee table. I gouge with every available implement: thumbtacks, Lefty scissors, the plastic hand of my Barbie accomplice (who really should have known better). It is a slow death. In the end, there is nowhere to hide the body. When I am…

So Twinkle Made Lemonade

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“Just how many different animals try to hide their nakedness?” “Only one. And that'd be us, idiot.”, Twinkle responded. “Then, why don't we mind sometimes showing our bodies?”, she then asked. Twinkle could see it was going to be another…

Interlude in Trader Joe's Parking Lot

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I'm pulled in by the music like a rogue wave and he has no idea I'm drowning...

Forewarned

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He imagined them raining down on her and then, like little radio towers, transmitting the sensation of her skin and warmth to him. He could feel her from the other side of the plastic. She could stay there, and he would feed her Chicken and Stars.

Your Last Rooster

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But his muscles fluttered and off he flew leaving the stink of barnyard on the sheets.

Ain't the End of Me

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But even if the truth Never sets me free I'll know this ain't the end of me

Frozen Chicken

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One of the pieces, I noticed, had the real shape of a miniature chicken, its mohawk, pin legs, and small definition of wing. “Look at that,” I said to my friend. And just then, the wing twitched.

Fulfillment

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And she's dying like someone who's tried living and failed.

Three Short Poems

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no more trying to keep / the peace, no more trying / to keep every person happy. / Just this: no more.

BLT

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I had a sister-in-law who was a licensed nutritionist. Not sure what “licensed” means, but she had some certificate and worked in a hospital. Hospitals! Places not known for their cuisine, much less their nutrition. —So, what do you…

Bison

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To make extra money, my father wrote music reviews for the Calgary Herald, and on Saturday nights, he went to hear the Symphony, or into recital halls to listen to the chamber music that was being performed around the city. He took me, once, to a performa

Bootsy Goes on a Bender

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Bootsy awoke with a hangover that only brain surgery could cure, a hangover that caused a seam to open in the known universe, leaving Bootsy on one side while all other matter sped away, away.

This Can't Be Blank

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I don't know where to start. We're gaining flight. Did you seeanybody we know? The trees are always a concern. I don't thinkI know how to stop this thing from crashing into parked cars,that is if we live. You can say it was all on a stupid dare. They don't have to know…

The Energy of Girls

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Emma and I were in a shabby part of town with vacant lots and overgrown yards, and I wondered if something would happen as we loped beside Tom, who was slow-witted and 21. We were 13 . . .

March

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Crows etc.

With Eyes Closed

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I believe I will become a bear, snuggle up in a deep cave, coil myself inside my fur, close my eyes on hurting images, turn a deaf ear to the uproar of the world. Bolt my door to the deceiving voices outside. Sleep. Forget. Wait, as we wait for spring, for the violet and…

Troy

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It’s layer VII we adore/ and mourn

Distance

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We must sometimes see the world/ as the pale blue dot// surrounded by brighter dots/ and that endless field of darkest dark.

My Anonymous Career

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I signed on with a large national restaurant chain to write descriptors for menus, and I was the very first to use the term "farm-fresh" to refer to eggs.

Bethlehem

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I dragged you that last half mile Me such a slip of a thing, one bite mark visible You the bear, your growl now only audible When you furred from kerb to road to kerb The December snow followed us Dragging Christmas red behind you As I ignored my…

The Sextant

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I was hope, and you were what I can only call consolation, as day after day you remained a grief in my throat.

Koch Brothers

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When Chuck dies, I’ll throw/ a party and dance, a little drunk,/ across what I’ll pretend/ is the old shit’s grave.

The End of Février

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She got the day wrong. It was one of her usual mistakes, getting the day wrong. A Wednes for a Tues. Or a 5th for a 6th. Sometimes it took her until afternoon to realize it. Which probably meant that it didn’t make much of a difference anyway.

Trouble behind, trouble ahead, and you know that notion's stole from the Dead

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...she shouted, “Benny!” and slowed down as a hand-lettered signboard proclaiming zukeeny appals cidar came into view

Two poems by Kitty Boots

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To dance along the wrack line...