Poem – Apartment


Apartment

Their first apartment or was it the second.
Montreal in 1949.
My mother looks at the photo.
It is 1995. The outside shot
My sister stopped playing
To look at the camera.

“That’s where we moved to,” my mother says.
“We didn’t have two sticks
of furniture to rub together.”

I look at her eyes looking at the photo.
“A table and two chairs. A bed and the crib.”
Her head shakes. She does not smile.
Holds the photo album on her lap.
Her wheelchair rolled up
to the good light.

Advertisements

Poem – The Can’t Story


The Can’t Story

 

It has come up many times.

A traditional story like the one

About me giving away my big sister’s tricycle

When I was three to a boy who asked for it.

 

My sister taking

the Red Cross swimming lessons.

Taking the tests for lifeguard.

Crying in the water,

Saying she can’t.

My mother, the Swedish Viking woman,

The lumberjack’s daughter,

Standing on the balcony spectator level

Leaning over the rail and using

The Norse battle voice

Pushing her will

Over the rail

Through the air

To my sister

In the water.

 

“I don’t want to hear can’t.

You can.”

 

She did.