spring 2016
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageOttawa Hospital: Eating Disorder Ward Fan Palms Mallory Tater
There's So Much to Tell You On Some Good Days Alison Braid
Year In Review Starling Advice Amie Whittemore
Unavailable On Buying a Second Pair of Birkenstocks Pamela Mosher
air mattress the clinic printed off a calendar B.J. Best
A conversation with a massage therapist Francine Cunningham
All Bones Hunger a Home Algonquin Ashley-Elizabeth Best
I Saw the Best Minds of My Generation Christopher Evans
There’s So Much to Tell You
How my fist won’t fit in my mouth,
that I sit still trying to unlearn my reflection,
this body like the taut skin of a balloon.
Evenings hang heavy from their hooks.
I sit still trying to unlearn my reflection.
What more can follow? Evenings hang
heavy from their hooks. Yesterday,
I overheard one gardener ask the other:
what more can follow? It was spring
and he was sunk in tulips.
I overheard one gardener tell the other:
I feel like that invisible man stoned in the snow.
It was spring and he was sunk in tulips.
I think I wanted to love him. I feel
like that invisible man stoned in the snow.
His knees were soiled full moons when he stood.
I think I wanted to love him.
There’s so much to tell you. His knees
were soiled full moons when he stood. My hands
in their old way, hold nothing near.