- lggoode
ISSAC
Written April 2014 as part of a poetry course at UBC. First time lines borrowed while eavesdropping in a cafe in East Van.
“I’m terrible at relationships,” she says,
“I butcher them.”
After I raise them hand-fed in a barn smelling of hay,
And feed them in heat drenched meadows.
And when I walk them down,
The long, cool path,
Smelling of lily,
The shadows dance to swaying leaves,
To the song of their brothers,
To the music of sweet grass in the wind,
To the slaughterhouse.
And they never see it coming.
I watch her
Spin
Gold,
Around her ring finger.
I want her
To look up.
She paints our story
In false promises
Of winters that will never come
She writes our story
In parables of spilled blood.
But when we danced
We felt like children.
She despises
She despises
She despises
The human that is me.
Because I can’t hold myself
Inside her mold.
Because her waist is perfect between my hands
But we never quite fit.
The noonday sun
Burns.
She is lost
Five blocks from home.
I would kiss her back
To our two room flat
But we turned in the key this morning.