Tuesday, December 09, 2014

Tuesday poem #88 : Pearl Pirie : neither evil nor saved, I sidestepped it all at the second coming

planted in front of the grill, I tend most of all to my cold hands
after holding the Corbeaux de Fer, vintage 1989, best chilled.
it would be a heresy of a sort otherwise for a dry white wine.

“maybe you are alone in all the world today. there’s not another
soul alive. even the flowers all knew Jesus. but not every insect”
I offer myself that consolation, insouciant, head full of butterflies,

a garden of them will suck dry every nectar in there. not a person
will come up my stairs, said the lady who lives upstairs in my head
in her dry tone and chignon up-do. therefore I am alone, no one

will cram my corridor before I close my door. shoulders hunched
swing like a dog protecting my meat from theft. habits hold me.
once the last caterpillar is crisply well-done I’ll pop open my wine.

    (A homophonic translation of a Michèle Provost novel text.)

Pearl Pirie has two poetry collections, and a third forthcoming with BookThug in 2015. She has a few chapbooks, most recently vertigoheel for the dilly (above/ground, 2014) and Quebec Passages (Noun Trivet Press, 2014) and today's woods (above/ground, 2014). She runs phafours, a micro press, several blogs, has a gig as literary radio host at CKCUfm Literary Landscape, and has irregular gigs to teach poetry. www.pearlpirie.com

The Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

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