Girl, Walking

                             Ah you, bright you,

breaking day open like a dry loaf

and setting off through the billowing sky

that wafts across your mind


like shantung curtains. Girl,

you have cured my mournfulness

the way you bounce through the rubber museum

of all my enterprise. For example:


your lips are worn thin from too many

insincere kisses, and yet

they are still your lips — unmistakable!

They are not (forgive me) poetic lips or lips


in danger of creating an insubordinate

lineage amongst poets who keep quoting

one another like ducks on the subject


of plagiarism: quack quack quack!


But for all that, girl, yes you

you have brightened

my blue period and what has been slammed

most recently shut.


                             Ah you, bright you,

with your unlatched laughter

and love contagious as yawning,

you are why all my locks tumble


and what springs open

this weary heart of mine.

Published online January 01 2013.

From A Walker in the City (Brick Books, 2011).

Méira Cook is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently A Walker in the City (Brick). Poems from A Walker in the City won first prize in the 2006 CBC Literary Awards and “The Beautiful Assassin” garnered a Manitoba Publishing Award (a “Maggie”). Her first novel, The House on Sugarbush Road, has been published by Enfield & Wizenty. Méira lives, writes and walks in Winnipeg.

No Place Like Home: A Winnipeg Issue cover image

This piece was published in ‘No Place Like Home: A Winnipeg Issue,’ the Winter 2013 issue of CV2.

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