poetry

Unveiling

Truth has started to call to me.

First, as wordless pain,
Turning in me quietly, pushing at my gut in the early dawn.

Truth is coaxing itself into the corners of my eyes.

 Truth is running down my cheeks, silently,
& falling down the stream of my neck,
into the hollows I have carved in my shoulders.

Truth is reminding me that my first language
was always         weeping.

they did

you don’t believe your queer friend could do this to your other queer friend.
you don’t believe your father could do this to your mother.
you don’t believe your mother could do this to your sibling.
you don’t believe your teacher could
you don’t believe your best friend could

Diction (a glossary of terms)

Aunt: f. from the Latin amita 1. small creatures that can carry more than their share 1.2 stand-in mothers (who can’t hold seventeen hours of labour over you) 2. photo filler used for major childhood moments: christenings, communions, etc. 3. antonym ex-aunts: members of the family easily erased by divorce

Late

Everything’s late this year.
Nothing’s dissolved since my last visit to Waterloo—
an evening at the park staring at geese
and we took turns
pushing each other on swings,
pretending we were children.

Pages

Currently on Newsstands

  • Room 41.4, Emergence
    Edited by Alissa McArthur

    In this issue:

    Tharuna Abbu, Farah Ali, Kristin Bjornerud, Michelle Chen, Nomi Chi, Morgan Christie, Kim Fu, Hannah Graff, nancy viva davis halifax, Ceilidh Isadore, Liz Kellebrew, Jo Lee, Kris Ly, Melanie Mah, Sara Mang, Katie McGarry, Estlin McPhee, Triin Paja, Loghan Paylor, Nagmeh Phelan, Oubah Osman, Lisa Rawn, Yvonne Robertson, Erika Thorkelson, Cara Waterfall

    .

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