spring 2016
Table of Contents
Return to Home Page
Ottawa Hospital: Eating Disorder Ward
Fan Palms
Mallory Tater
air mattress
the clinic printed off a calendar
B.J. Best
Year In Review
Starling Advice
Amie Whittemore
All Bones Hunger a Home
Algonquin
Ashley-Elizabeth Best
There's So Much to Tell You
On Some Good Days
Alison Braid
A conversation with a massage therapist
Francine Cunningham
I Saw the Best Minds of My Generation
Christopher Evans
Unavailable
On Buying a Second Pair of Birkenstocks
Pamela Mosher
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.