spring 2014
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageAriadne: the untangler Fiona Mitchell
Poem for Jeff Poetry Shortage Kayla Czaga
An Interview with a Caribou Richard Kelly Kemick
The Day The Rain Stopped Jane Mellor
We Are At Our Best When the Rain Ceases Falling on Hanover Richard-Yves Sitoski
The Ford Takes Us to Wreck Beach Melissa Sawatsky
I Invent a Character Before Lunch Steve Klepetar
The Last Year of His Life Barbara Brooks
In the South Chilcotins The Shell Rob Taylor
No Small Effort Joseph Dorazio
Lost and Found Things I Noticed . . . Ricky Garni
Lost and Found
I forget what my teachers looked like when I was little.
But I remember what my pencils looked like.
School Bus yellow with Robin Hood green swatches.
Some were short and some were long.
But they all looked exactly alike when they began.
When they began to do what they do.
I wish I could say all my teachers looked exactly alike.
I wish all my teachers said exactly the same thing.
They were all different sizes and all said different things.
I only remember them now because they gave me pencils.
All I really remember is pencils in school and waving goodbye
from the school bus. And I only remember waving goodbye
from the school bus because the school bus was the exact color
of my pencil. School Bus yellow.