Calls orchestrated over the clock-warp
of Greenland, underwater cables, constellations.
Static was a constant breaker, traversing
an endless beach.
Calvinist, so every word had to outweigh
the coin that was its counterpart, but not too nakedly.
Often, delays in the line made our voices collide: I saw
a skunk do you dream under the dumpster in English now? You go.
Or another conversation crackled in the background,
obliquely urgent, on the verge of clarity.
Later, she called at odd hours, her greeting as close
as the pillow, bright as the blood red numbers.
Some nights, she mislaid the horn.
So then it was me and the sea.
About this Poem
This poem was originally published as part of a longer series, “Great Aunt Unmarried”, which won the 2012 CBC Literary Award for poetry. It is available on CBC Books.
It was later published in a slightly different form in her debut collection Leaving Howe Island (2013).
