For Steven Heighton
Your words,
pollen
blooming
encounters with displaced
thoughts,
persons, a dissipation
of the right
to apathy.
Lesvos, an
island of (my) sapphic desire
stone
goddesses forever slink in pale peach frocks
noctambulant
in the dark
intermingled
now with leaky rafts un-
seaworthy,
and you, rushing to meet
bobbing
bodies, bring them sobbing
with relief
fright flashes memory trauma home.
Leading them
half-lost in your mother’s
land,
moonsilvered grass, branches gouging, stiffening
spine,
resolve, wilting hardness, kicks aplomb
with soccer
balls later, kids giggling, helios on their backs.
I meet you
somewhere
in the
scaffolding of honeycomb mind
mnemonic wax
of conversations, emails
perfumed
with your poems.
Do you
remember reading in the nave
(hairs perking
up in the conch of Zeus’s ear)
full moon of
my belly between us?
Your
kindness, concern when I left early.
For weeks,
you sent me stories about raising
small
humans, snippets of haiku laced
with lyre
gut.
I learned
you had been sick
during the
holy week.
Smacked me
broadside
stomach a
fistclenched clam.
A makeshift
altar on my bookcase
is small: bamboo
cross and purple kandili.
any toast
today bittersweet
wine and bog
water
embalming
our encounters.
Travel well.
I still owe
you a homecooked meal
tiropitakia and olives.
Ottawa, Greek Easter Sunday, 2022
Vivian Vavassis is a Montréal ex-pat who lives in Ottawa and calls both cities home. Her poems and essays have appeared in Prairie Fire, Arc, ottawater, Paris Lit Up, Peter F. Yacht Club, Glosas for P.K. Page, phafours press publications, and Studies in Canadian Literature, among others. Her chapbook XII was published by Textualis Press. She has been shortlisted for the Diana Brebner Prize twice, and her work was featured in the Parliamentary Poet Laureate's Poem of the Month program. Once upon a time, she ran a bunch of little ‘zines, and she currently sits on the board of VERSeFest.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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