OBITUARY
Austin Timmins 1928 – 2020
BRUTE
BLUNT INSTRUMENT
ENABLED BY THOSE WHO WORSHIPPED
POWER.
mercy
even the plates on that table lied,
the forks and spoons clung to each other
there were no witnesses, it was said,
all was silent
but for the lingering scent of sacrifice
in the cold-storage closet
in the corner of that room,
like the sweet and rot of autumn apples,
a young daughter given to a father
to keep food on the plates on that table, it’s been said,
the girl herself not a reasonable witness, fear locked
in her frozen expression,
but her knives were more patient,
only waiting for winter to end
___
mercy appears in the print and online editions of Vallum Magazine 162 (page 59). Listen to the voice recording of mercy.
Triolet for Afghanistan
my country
is a fractured mirror
a continuous fire
a burning garden
—Asadulla Habib
At Kag Khana four boys flee
the peacemakers’ war, the Pashtun lord.
Sandflies tear their cheeks, scars seed
at Kag Khana. Four boys flee
across mountains bereft of the grace of trees
that will cast them back
to Kag Khana four shadows to be
peacemakers, lords of war?
_____
Triolet for Afghanistan appears on the Literary Review of Canada website.
The Field Speaks of its Persistence
I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
—Wallace Stevens
you drive through me your windows open radio on
the horses along the fence watch you
and the grasslands east and west
early morning light’s playing with matter
electrons bound off the metal hood of the car atoms
entangle superconduct flux the order of the day
on the ridge a poplar strips its branches down to
the velvet of antlers its trunk a pivot black hinge
black bird that swims out of itself and back in so close
to your windshield you’re forced to slow down tune-out
your radio pull-over shaking lean
on a fence post where the horses’ great heads hang deep
in thought memories of leather traces eased furrowed fields
salt-licks as a mare looks up meets your eye
it lasts just a second
that glimpse of how light slows
the mare’s memories quickening now through your brain
all of your feet heavy as stone
having passed through walls skin your elation
will turn to confusion how you’ll know when
it happens again but for now
it’s bliss all along
you’ve belonged here
across the fence the car idles
its radio kicking in
and out
___
The Field Speaks of its Persistence originally appeared in Radio, Film, and Fiction. Spec. issue of Canadian Literature 225 (Summer 2015): 64-65, and subsequently on their website. The poem is now included in my book, Every Shameless Ray, (Innana Publications, 2018).