Everyone goes to Cuba; dances Salsa
puts away money
and defends their grass.
While old windows reflect, curbside
years of slipping clarity
wobble of atrophy in glass:
The sky is solid but can be shattered
There are wrinkles in telephone poles
Raccoons wait, treed, with small hands
The white dotted line separating “coming” and “going” bends.
I have a BA (honours English) from the University of Calgary, and an MA in English from the University of Toronto. I’ve had poetry and essays published in many literary magazines and newspapers. I maintain a semi-parodic blog translating Marcus Aurelieus’s Meditations into “housewife”. A member of the Writer’s Guild of Canada since 2002, I’ve also written for film and TV. I live with my husband and sons in Hudson, Quebec.