(Illustration by Sophie Laplante – click to expand)
3AM in the Modern Sleep
A careful child walks across my pillow.
I lie awake, humbled by the loyalty of my cactus
in a red tin by the window.
Leah lies in a deep daze
out on red wine
mid-sentence, telling me
I treat my wolves like sleigh dogs.
Snow falls from her brow,
collects in the basins of her eyes.
The child stoops from her cheek to blow
I hold the salt of our situation to my tongue,
the pepper to my nose:
How we trade hurt.
I hold the little boy up in my palm,
to my chin as he squirms.
And I can’t for my life think
what we’ll do with him when the morning comes.
(illustration by Sahra Campbell – click to expand)
People Used To Forget
People used to forget.
You’d hear the story from Benny,
just back from New Battleford, Saskatchewan.
He went to town, now he has a new horse.
The facts weren’t really the point.
He’d be at the four corners by the fuel pump,
next to the horse
and a yellow, moiled plain,
mostly just under sky,
and tell a different story every time.
First just Aaron Mumby stopped forgetting.
You’d see him standing nearby with a pencil and paper
when no-matter-who said no-matter-what.
Before long they had to build a library.
They also built a statue of Aaron Mumby.
Now even Dickie, the idiot remembers.
The internet has all his thoughts saved
so we can remember them too.