A collection of my poems, both old and new.
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"cartoon on the back door of a children's feeding centre in managua"
She stood there,
a cartoon drawn on a plywood door,
visible beneath a thin coat of white paint,
already dirty.
Breasts out sideways like
shoulders, arms extending
from them, her head a single eye
perched atop a thick-lined neck,
eyelashes for hair.
˗ˏˋ・。☆.・゜✭・. AUTHOR'S NOTES ✫・゜・。.・。. ✭
I was a Canadian teenager with the distinct privilege of sharing with a young family a small, dirt-floor shack made of scavenged lumber and zinc sheeting that had surely blown off someone else's roof in some long-forgotten windstorm. By night, we slept on cardboard mats and ragged cots. By day, it was an "olla comunales", a "communal pot" where my host family strove to offer some basic nutrition (a bit of rice, protein where they could scrounge it) to a neighbourhood's worth of malnourished kids and toddlers who could not get enough at home.
One morning there was great rejoicing. A smelly diesel panel truck had pulled up on threadbare wheels to donate leftover fish heads from the market. Together, the family, children, and I all feasted like kings on fish head soup - the brains struck me as a delicacy but the lenses of the eyeballs scratched the back of my throat, causing me to gag. Eyes rolling in my bowl, I could sense the ghosts of that morning's catch judging me all the way down.
