A new poem by Beverley Bie Brahic
After a print by Judith Pressey
I have a life, too-eee.
Nylon-webbed aluminum tubing, light—
lift me, you can, crook a finger!
But I’m strong, yes ma’am. I’ll hold
you after hours on the porch,
kink in your neck from standing staring
at that hill, mama’s breast,
I bet. Running your hands
through the sky’s milky skeins. A dome
of mountain in a scrim of mist, orange
as an orange popsicle.
Moonlight turns the porch to eye shadow.
Empty I drop off the world. Uh huh, like that.
Pack up flat as a set of Minoan
bones packed in a cedar-wood chest.
BEVERLEY BIE BRAHIC’s poetry collection, White Sheets (CB Editions; Fitzhenry & Whiteside), was a finalist for 2013 Forward Prize and her translation, Apollinaire, The Little Auto (CB Editions) was awarded the 2014 Scott Moncrieff Prize. Born in Saskatoon, she grew up in Vancouver and now lives in Paris and the San Francisco Bay Area.
LINDA BESNER talks to NYLA MATUK about her new book
A panel of writers tackles literary ethics and the literary artist
MOLLY PEACOCK on one modern woman’s life
LAURA RITLAND wonders if Barthes could be woke
DAMIAN TARNOPOLSKY attends the Amazon.ca First Novel Awar
CADE LEEBRON on finding common ground with Hillary's campaign
REBECCA SALAZAR on Canada Reads