Tuesday poem #703 : Maleea Acker : Applecross

 

 

I place my sister
in this place and wait. 

Sun, glittered pools, rock.
A depression the shape of my family. 

She does not move and I tip
the gentle circumstances 

that keep her silent
and she begins to lope 

over the peat. The hummocked
bunch grasses and prehistoric ferns, 

the tiny purple orchids
and punk rock bog grass tufts. 

I want to see if she can tell me
the names of these birds 

or the tiny frogs
of the dark water pools. 

Something her children
have not taught her. 

I close my eyes and listen.
It’s been years we have not spoken. 

The wind stops and the desert
she carries inside unfurls and pours 

over the top of her body
and meets this wet desert. Hello, 

they say, as she continues
her jerky steps along the one boot 

wide coffin road,
its cairns for resting the box, its amethyst 

shatter simmering quartz
leaping slowly at her ankles,  

little points of hill that triangle
down to the sea in various states 

as the weather moves over and over.
I watch as she pirouettes 

off a golden bog moss puff,
as she flings children like little apples 

all around her, lets them take root
and then rot in the invisible waters. 

I want to show her anything,
to land her back here 

where we were from but still
I can’t make anyone do a thing.

 

 

Maleea Acker is the author of three books of poems: The Reflecting Pool and Air-Proof Green (Pedlar Press, 2009, 2012); Hesitating Once to Feel Glory (Nightwood 2022) which was a finalist for the Victoria Book Prize, and; Gardens Aflame: Garry Oak Meadows of BC’s South Coast (New Star, 2021). She is faculty in the English Department at Thompson Rivers University and an instructor at the University of Victoria. Maleea is currently Program Lead for the post-doctoral ECCC-funded project Engage with Nature-based Solutions (engagewithnbs.ca), which is producing science storytelling, educational curriculum and funding climate artists nationally to create a climate and NBS toolkit.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday poem #702 : Etienne Marsolet : Dayfish

 

 

Ulysses daybreaks morning star evergreen
chlorophyll oracle descending from aqueduct
sunshine splinters streams baltic amber
perennials brighten dewdrops holographic solarium
frail butterfly bulk-freighter launches westward
dawn pattern blossoms soluble water-clocks
beach waves roll with summer plums
as sunswept as a quebec strawberry

 

 

 

Etienne Marsolet is a poet and artist from Saguenay, Quebec. Previous works of poetry have recently been featured in Poetry Daily, Oversound, The Ampersand Review, and talking about strawberries all of the time.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday poem #701 : Noah Sparrow : Excessive Positioning (excerpts)

 

 

In one evening we are on
a shoreline by the black sea
that has no black sand
or water or anything like that
except sometimes sky and we
can make it romantic even if
we got chased by nazis after
going into one of their shops
accidentally and I was very
scared for you not only
because of your Jewishness
but predominately because
of how distracted you were
with the material of what
was around your thumb hovering
by a small keychain or something
of the like 

Even so when we were
running we were mostly
alone in a way that made me
think we’d stay tan for
the rest of our lives yet
winter is always now
and my skin is falling
off my hands
like the blowing sand and
I’m the one with all the
job rejections a person could get
And we’ve both gained weight
more so me than you
it’s all a good thing because
we are getting comfortable
and
the sun is getting brighter
every year
which we saw on Mount Eden
once
on top of the mountain
and even though I was pissed
in the moment and sleep
deprived, I wish we didn’t cheat
on the mountain and instead
climbed it up ourselves the
way you’re supposed to,
but in the end it was a good
call because we had a good
chat on the bus ride there,
didn’t we?

 

 

 

Noah Sparrow has been recently exiled from Montreal and is now based in Edinburgh, Scotland. His chapbook SPECTACLE/SPECTATOR is out with above/ground press, and a second, Here I am Dying at an Average Pace, is forthcoming with Cactus Press in late 2026. He has work published with The Fiddlehead and has been shortlisted for the Montreal International Poetry Prize. You can find him at noahsparrow.com

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan