introspection
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September, You
“Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.”-e. e. cummings Notions of love are a sometimes-heaven, like how, with the morning, a star becomes the colour of the sky. In a bad state I begin to feel we’re in the country again, this time forever– worse, this time for the last time forever. I… Continue reading
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Toronto Harbour Front, 5AM
There are low flying birds this morning, but it might not rain. I didn’t cry yesterday, but I woke up at three in the morning knowing I wanted to. There are low flying birds by the water, their sorrowful bellies nearly skimming the waves. I didn’t cry yesterday, and I might not today, but there’s… Continue reading
About Me
A poet living in Ontario. Mostly works of memoir and poetry that focus on motherhood, womanhood, and relationship to self.