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Month: November, 2017

The Last Vitality

I saw The Last of Eva

In Her Strict Blue Eyes

Sitting up to get up

And out

Of a secondary hospital

10 Years Later

Where is my brother now?

He is in my right eye

The corner of which

I rub occasionally

With my right index finger

As He so often


Eye Gladly Wear Real Mink

Eye Gladly Wear Real Mink

From a dead mother in law

But today I bought

A fake spruce —

Bush from a box

With tiny silver lights

Tied at the top

To be unfurled

With the eternal hope

Of a birthday visit

From my living son


Seeing Red

For Valentine’s Day

Eye wanted a gown

The colour of poinsettia —

My first husband’s response

To my request:

“Whadda ya want that For?”

Day Light

The sky is the colour of salmon

The horizon is streaked with gold

Filaments of autumn

Laid out straight —

My rising to behold

Jackie’s Birthday

Early light laced through

The neighbour’s tree through the clouds

The sun as Eye write

On Into

One Night on the NY State Thruway

Eye drove with a silver haired

CBC executive

On into the night

And he said to me

Alone as we were:

“Ahh to keep driving

On into the night”


How many beds have I made

For Dr Blair

But not for my self?

I have the bed in my grafitti-ed room

And have had no one in it

But cats —

Here I am

Again in a place

Of less than domesticity

And I have spread

A laundered quilt

Across a bed

Of complicity

Enroute To Brier Island

I saw a dog

In a doorless doorway

Crouched across with his paws



A stairless step