The first time I heard of k.d. lang, I was twenty years old, living at home for the summer, and buckled into the back seat of the family car as we motored up the highway on the first family road trip in years. We were heading northeast towards the interior of B.C. for my cousin’s wedding. My dad...
you pull out your day book &inscribe a stellarium on my belly. posed with your phone like a byzantine sainti tilt the word of your miracles to better light. i’m drawing my gratitude list in stars, you saidlike you do. do you mind if i balance this here? i stretch exalted, the breathing altar...
I. welcome to the good woman. welcome to my mother or my lover. welcome to knowing what will not save me. i want to be clean, washed of conditioning, and rub shampoo dry with the past as a patchwork towel i made from every mistake. i want to cry and not blame it on the aftershave. tomorrow i will...
I jump out from under the covers, stumbling down the hallway to Curtis’s nursery. The deep cream carpet muffles my steps, soft against my bare feet. The cool knob of the door startles me fully awake as I turn it. The hinges creak open. The room is dark. No nightlight. The screams that woke me up...
My queer is naming…….my cabbage patch doll “Madison” after my very best friend. My queer is my neighbourhood. ……..The shootings. Our small blue house with the white……..balcony. The dog, bear, bit the nose……..off Madison. Bit the skin off me. My...
Flitting tails of firebow minnows— lilac fibrils streaked on wheelchair cobble— whipped by the warm pull of august a jug of orchids passes between palms their cups marrowed to bone, indecent gulping against the fold of dusk as if they have yet to live a life of tenderness ……..of...
