And the wolves howl in the forest.
Really a shrubbery, but
the journey is to granny’s house,
and she has teeth. Not pointy ones;
these gnashers are more practical
for tea and toast and soft chicken
sandwiches. In the evening,
she takes them out for her tipple:
whisky and milk, a little ice.
I bring her the glass, hand shaking,
hiding in my hoodie, because
if she bites, I will have to run.
everything is exclamation marks today
on the seed table beyond the window
a black-capped bird agrees with me
we are impatient for summer
stone-grey waxwings gobble the last
crabapples quick to the feast
too busy to chatter they flicker
among the branches
waiting for the geese to call them north
Laura Lamont has published poems in both Descant and CV2, and was shortlisted twice for the Winston Collins/Descant Prize for Best Canadian Poem. Her first chapbook, a collaboration with designer Jess Dixon for Saskatoon’s JackPine Press, will be published in July 2015. She lives in Winnipeg.
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