War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

lazarus (43)

we walked over ice, scuffed the surface with snowshoes
embedded on a bank beneath a brace of birch, white-peeled
the bark bloodless in the cool sun of winter solstice

you lit the stove, boiled black espresso, spilled it as you sipped
onto the white scarf crocheted by your mother to keep you warm
in a desert, in Afghanistan, she’d knotted tears into every loop

under the ice, summer slept in mud and cool quietness
lakegrass, lilies, trout—oh how you love to fish—the green water
that day was a million years away from war and others’ betrayals

later, we slipped under blankets the colour of chocolate, of espresso
your four poster bed, soft landing for tired bodies, tired hearts, tired heads
with hands, our lips, our voicelessness, we released ourselves from frozen waters,

silvery, like fish.

1 Comment (Closed)


love the line “she’d knotted tears into every loop” the piece has such wonderful meter.

May 24 2012 · 11:34

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled lazarus (43). It was posted here on May 22, 2012.


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