IN DAVID’S TEA I WAITED FOR G
I overthink everything in my life and that
ruins my life I hate being a girl so much
Do you know how much easier life would be if
I wait and wait for sleek blonde loveliness
to finish her sentence at this place until the fall of night I waited for Godot
Hoping against hope that she wasn’t just another
girl wishing she were born a boy
__
Winter 2013 Songanddancegirl & Samuel Beckett 1952
EAT THE WORM I IMPLORE YOU
I resent the snow as though it shows up
to induce claustrophobia and mid-winter
migraine These relentless mudbeige days without sun
are raining on my wellness parade Even
the tea at Teavana is not the antidote to my malaise
O you denizens who growl & march zombielike into the frozen haze
Something so much stronger is required until
Toronto emerges from the maze When we will
squander again our hot pink dusks and forget about all of the beige
__
Winter 2013
SWEET CHARIOT COMIN FOR TO CARRY ME HOME
Sometimes I see The Quarter in sepia tones drifting by
in my mind’s eye Was I even there? What proof do I
have except a dull throb mid-chest Was I shot and now dead?
Everyday is the end of the world for somebody
Said Monk Big Chief of New Orleans
Maybe these are my End of Days
Where the blast of Irvin’s trumpet will
carry me home Swing Low
__
*New Orleans LA has the highest murder rate in the U.S. for cities with a population of over 200,000.
Winter 2013
MY MOTHER CAN’T HELP HERSELF
So how can she help me? sneers my 3 o’clock
She has many adult problems it’s true And
deep down inside she does love you
But like the Barbie’s in the playroom her babies are removable featureless
Made so by years in crack houses & motels where
smoke from the last fire poured under the bathroom
door Leaving you with an obsession for firemen & keys
__
*Grief studies have shown that the loss of a parent is akin to the loss of a limb
where the phantom limb continues to throb inexplicably
Winter 2013
MARLBORO MAN
He lived in this neighbourhood
where I have stopped for tea
He had steelblue eyes and was
from Calgary His command of
language was wanting but I
overlooked it ditto his lack of
moral fibre His father had kept him
under the trailer where he licked his
wounds at night And his brother who
was missing a middle finger baptized me
in the Bow River so I would know that I was alive
..You live your life in a plastic bag babe in a plastic bag..
__
Winter 2013
BUFFALO GIRL WON’T YOU COME OUT TONIGHT
Looks like she lives in her cab
Grown mean ’cause her dream
has turned Southern Gothic
She is grimy and talkative and lonely
Enchanted by the idea of New Orleans
at 16 Came down after high school
her cab now a shrine where the smell
of shrimp wafts up off of blue vinyl
__
Winter 2013 For Illinois Atkins & the City that care forgot
THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY HONEY
Going on holiday is like winning the lottery
All of a sudden you have a wallet full of foreign
money You eat brunch everyday & dinner with
a reservation at night Handsome men call you honey
And cocktails called Bitches Brew await you
But so does your plane home Where multitudes
of baby carpenter ants are hatching and the dog
out back is barking a brand new tune
And soon you won’t have to pinch yourself to know you’re awake
__
Winter 2013
MOMMY DEAREST
She nestled her head into the Barbie’s
shoulder cooing like a dove The doll
had just given birth to a baby who
almost died You are so lucky she squeaked
Grief seeping out the corners of her eyes
All my mother’s 13 children are lucky to be alive
__
Winter 2013
THOSE LIPS WERE MADE FOR BLOWING KISSES
She’s lovely with horrible posture back sways
like a sail All else is perfect boots red dress trench with 26 neat rows of buttons
Now sweeping breckgirl hair into a chignon
Where do creatures like this repair to when the
night weasels come? I’m skeptical I’m skeptical
__
Winter 2013 Galleria Italia A.G.O.
A VOODOO SEPULCHRE WHERE EVERYONE CALLS YOU BABY
Kirina Zabete cast a spell on me Kirina of the
flaming hair & luscious lip Handmaiden to
Marie Laveau Voodoo Queen of New Orleans
Saw me walking down Decatur St. swaying to
the beat of a 2nd line following close behind me
Now I find myself wandering aimlessly searching for
Marie Laveau getting way too close to the precipice wondering if I will ever
go home
*the Transfiguration of Songanddancegirl & Mac Rebennack
Winter 2012 N.O.L.A.
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