#CanadianWriters #FemaleWriters
She has been condemned to death by… may escape this death by becoming… woman by marrying the hangman. But… time there is no hangman; thus the… There is only a death, indefinitel…
The puppet of the wolf I have not made yet encloses my right hand: fur stubbles my wrists, a tongue, avid, carnivorous,
Secrecy flows through you, a different kind of blood. It’s as if you’ve eaten it like a bad candy, taken it into your mouth,
Love is not a profession genteel or otherwise sex is not dentistry the slick filling of aches and cav… you are not my doctor
What should we have taken with us? We never could decide on that; or what to wear, or at what time of year we should make the journey
She squats, bare feet splayed out, not graceful; skirt tucked around ankl… Her face is lined and cracked. She looks old,
In that country the animals have the faces of people: the ceremonial cats possessing the streets the fox run
I would like to watch you sleeping… which may not happen. I would like to watch you, sleeping. I would like to sleep with you, to enter
i Behind glass in Mexico this clay doll draws its lips back in a snarl; despite its beautiful dusty shawl,
I do not mean the symbol of love, a candy shape to decorate cakes with, the heart that is supposed to belong or break;
How did I get so dutiful? Was I… Going around as a child with a sma… sweeping up dirt I didn’t make, or out into the yard with a stunte… weeding the gardens of others
The rest of us watch from beyond t… as the woman moves with her jagged… into her pain as if into a slow ra… We see her body in motion but hear no sounds, or we hear
My daughter plays on the floor with plastic letters, red, blue & hard yellow, learning how to spell, spelling,
You walked in front of me, pulling me back out to the green light that had once grown fangs and killed me. I was obedient, but
i The children on the lawn joined hand to hand go round and round each arm going into