PMS winter solstice, the hereditary gist of a fractal
Interior. I buried another yesterday by the back door
Of this expanding universe just before I dreamt in Gmail.
As if all new oracles visit digitally: a reply all Cri de Coeur
From Athens, a bcc promoted punk tour streamed
Via a cave system linked to the romantic history
Of strange quarks, spooky action at a distance. I slid
Down a bank into a northern stream even further than you
Slid, nearby, down a bank of thick snow while you smiled
At me as if you like me now, now that my ass is wet.
At midnight that stream became the border between
New France and my dream of being intelligible.
Then I'm awake in the garage with my firstborn thought,
A thought that sublimates into a braid of snowflakes
To find me an office in the February pension: a warmth
That only makes its way into the deepest pockets.
A novice love that can't help but become a flight risk.
To mark National Poetry Month, Globe Arts will publish original new poems throughout the month of April.
Liz Howard was born and raised in rural Northern Ontario and is currently a poet and cognition research officer in Toronto. Her first full-length collection Infinite Citizen of the Shaking Tent (McClelland & Stewart, 2015) was shortlisted for the Governor General's Literary Award for Poetry.