Dogwood blossoms return
men materialize down by the tracks
one slumped over a shopping cart
says he will make some graffiti drink
some beer holds up a Bud can—cheers
a guy in the alders with a flip phone
gingerly raises his hand says hi hi hi
by the flattened Coors cases Absolut
bottles soot from the campfire hear
a half-hearted train whistle raise
a glass heaps of felled sugar maples
piled further down the tracks yellow
mastodons are cracking the earth
Loyalists put a lid on this cobbled city
years and years politely cooking
on the edge of saying something
sat on the bus with our hands folded
please and thank you around the harbour
please and thank you now the marauders
no more reticence no hesitation
the Borg use a process of assimilation
graders dozers backhoe loaders
scrapers rebar concrete footings
hands swelling nanoprobes invading
the blood of the city the body the city
lateral loadings and all that reaching
networks of collagen weakening
swollen ganglia hanging from the trees
the blood of the city the body the city
in a luxury apartment of close proximity
to many essential important amenities
…
Lisa Comeau is a queer poet, playwright, artist. Her work explores the territories of class, disability, loss, survival, desire. She is currently working on a poetry manuscript about the gentrification of her neighbourhood, the overlap between the new city and the old and all those who are caught in that overlap.
