Squid hang like prayer flags on the horizon,
pale arms flickering in the wind. Peaks of sheds,
an upturned bucket, a jet gone just beyond the
paper’s edge, forever roaring into the future. (1-4)
From Kidd, Monica. “Remains: Conception Bay, 1981.” Handfuls of Bone. Kentville, NS: Gaspereau, 2012. 1. Print.
An audience member approached me after my reading last week to recommend The Mountain and the Valley by Ernest Buckler. The narrator’s perspective jumps around at a frustrating pace (Whose head am I in? Whose head am I in now?), but Buckler’s prose is glorious and wise.
“A girl couldn’t go way back there, Anna,” he said. Then it came to him how awful it was when the others said something reasonable like that to him, and Anna helpless to argue even, as he did. (26)
From Buckler, Ernest. The Mountain and the Valley. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1961. Print.
Red flag flipped
like even the mailbox is hitching a ride
out of here. (4-6)
From “Small Town” in: Forsythe, Jaime. Sympathy Loophole. Toronto: Mansfield, 2012. Print.