Tuesday, July 18, 2023

Tuesday poem #537 : Kate Spencer : methamphetamine

 

 

 

I paint my mirror each morning
to maintain the body bound up

in our decade of leaving.

Grief slipped on like a dress

over fragments, my hepatitis

skin and weak tendons. Today,

I lean hard into a burnt crystal

ball, and cook its future

into clenched teeth.

 

 

 

 

 

Kate Spencer hails from small town Saskatchewan. She received a Bachelor of Arts Honours in 2017 and a Masters of Arts in 2020 from the University of Regina. Throughout her studies, she split her focus between poetry, specifically Confessional, and Modernist literature, completing her graduate thesis on James Joyce. Lately, she runs a small business with her spouse and picks up after two new puppies. Cradle and Spoon is her first book.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

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