He’s my brother. I always thought
he was the favourite one, the one
they really wanted. I did not think
of what I might have looked like to him.
He is looking on in this photo, sitting
on a park bench. He does not have a bike
of his own. It is the same with his clothes.
The clothes he wore had been mine,
green overalls, blue shirt, all the winter jackets
and snowsuits. Never knowing the feel of new
things. Even the haircut he has is mine.
In a few years, he too will have this bike.
But no one will have taken the time to teach
him how to ride it without the training wheels
because they had come off years before. He
will ride this bike as I left it, like everything else
I had, and it will still be pink and the flowers printed
will still be there. There will be no picture of that day.
There is only a picture of this day.
This day of him sitting on the park bench alone,
hands in his lap, looking on and waiting for his turn.
GAYATRI
I have a picture of us when we are seven
but we aren’t in it. At the time it was taken
we thought we were. We posed with our wide
grins and best-friends-forever certainty. I angled
the camera to capture us in front of a Christmas tree.
All the sparkling tinsel and dangling silver balls aren’t there.
There is only the ceiling and the tip
of the pine needle. There isn’t a star or an angel
on top. I have kept this picture of us for years,
the only one to remember and laugh at what happened
to us then. It was taken before a time you could
see a picture on a screen, see how it turned out
and decide whether it was worth keeping. I think of you
now and again, the plain peanut butter sandwiches we ate
with apples. You said you were going to be a dentist
when you grow up, and with a fork and a spoon
you determined it was possible I would live
and sent me home with a bag full of Twizzlers and hair bands.
ZEVART
Every day at lunchtime, you gave me half
your sandwich. I never went hungry because
of you. I remember your cowboy boots, the ones
you liked in grade eleven, the time we sat together
on the stage at the last dance
waiting for someone to ask us. We walked
home together every day for thirteen years, saved
our pennies and tallied up enough
to buy a Hot Lip candy we could split. You know,
I still have the letters you wrote to me, the ones
you’d fold over six times to form a small pyramid.
They all seem to say the same thing inside about love,
how it can’t be hurried, how there can only be one,
and today could be the day that changes everything.
BROKERAGE REPORT III
Yield. Energy prices sank
today. Focus on rising
earnings instead. Bigger
profits and a higher finish.
Minimize costs, be efficient.
Turbines and plastics,
steel and rubber, scrap metal.
Oil futures fell sharply.
The standard. Adjust profits,
move margins, beat
projections. Investors are
concerned, analysts expect.
The index gave up and closed.
Yield. Bond prices can turn.
Tariff wars, but copper remains.
BROKERAGE REPORT IV
After disclosures, figures
are up. A year ago
trends revealed
flattened growth. This
morning we reported.
Our recommendation
is to hold. The dive in price
plunges below expectation.
We cannot expand. There
are limits. Raise questions.
Compound bad news. Veiled
numbers at this point
remain veiled. Net loss
should narrow property.
This shift should emphasize
appeal. Blame workers
and redesign the universe.
Curate material, side-step
the issue. Caution growth.
Continue and remain within
margins. Standard and poor.
NINE O’CLOCK
It is nine o’clock
and it has been
nine o’clock all day
The battery gone
unplugged perhaps
the metal plates
turning underneath
stopped the tick-tock
It would be unwise
to say it’s incorrect
because it is nine
o’clock somewhere
or for someone it’ll
become nine o’clock
or nine o’clock will
get to be for someone. It’s
the start of the working
day where time is money
and money is time or
the end of the day if
the day was for working
or counting up that way
What time it really is
I don’t know and can’t tell
It could very well be
nine o’clock but I can’t say
with much certainty or
confidence in that matter
If I were to look outside
for the shade and shadow
around where I stood
I wouldn’t see it on the ground
in front of me. And from
where I stood and was standing
I couldn’t look behind
or bring myself to turn
WHALES
I can spot the whales
They come up for air
A sprout in the ocean
I tell everyone to look
But by the time they turn
The whales have gone back
I have spotted about five
Now, they don’t even have
To show themselves
I know they are there
The seagulls circle them
Waiting for what they didn’t kill
LANDING
When flying make
allowances for
the direction of wind
Know the speed
and direction of
a plane in still air
Know where the wind
will push off, know
the course you set
for yourself
Compensate and fly
in the direction
of the vector,
refer to diagrams
and express each sum,
aim always to land
MANUAL FOR DIVING
The centre of gravity on a diving body
Is somewhere in the middle of the gut
This is a point that is fixed
The arms rotate, the legs stay together, toes point
Once you enter the water whatever you do then
Doesn’t count, won’t be marked, won’t be for the judge
There are no points for what your body didn’t do
Or for what your body could do in the routine
All the points are for what you do on the springboard
And the space your leap takes up
Points for how you lean, how you rotate and spin, and when
Even how you enter the water and the splash you make
There are no points once you’re under
What you do there won’t cost you a thing
ANTS
I had
been
thinking
of
my own
funeral
and what
that
would
look like
I want
it
to be
like this
Someone
would
take
notice
and turn,
order
the others
to get
in
the line
and take
me
from where
I’d been
And all
would
pass
the body
back
down
one by one
by one
until I reached
the last
There,
I’d be
lowered
into soil
and I
would
fill
the hole
I didn’t
make
BROKERAGE REPORT V
Workers at the mine are on strike.
There is gold at the site. Machines
were delivered last quarter. It was
all set to rise. This delay should
not worry investors. New workers
are being brought in. There are
proposed purchases and plans,
collapsed acquisitions, but we remain
positive and project. Gold is not
an upstart in this decade. A new
empire will not rise and become
a digital asset in this field. There
is nothing digital about gold. We
cannot emphasize rocks and form.
We will continue and oversee,
operate and focus, and take aim.
The stakes are high. It had long
been anticipated for closure, but
we will not dismantle our deal.
Our profits remain at the site.
PICTURE OF US
in Florida, at Busch Gardens.
I am twelve, standing in tall
grass by a roller coaster. I am
wearing a T-Shirt, the word EARTH
printed at its centre.
The letters are so big
there isn’t room for anything
else. Underneath are my
shorts, yellow circles
splattered across the front.
This is the outfit I wear all summer.
It’s what I wear when we walk out
into the ocean floor at low-tide
looking for a conch.
The bigger, more beautiful ones
are farther out. I won’t notice
how far I’ve gone. By the time
I find one the tide had come back in.
A shark’s grey tail circles me. I
know it is the blood between my legs.
I am not alone. A pod of dolphins come,
circling and signalling on some
ancient frequency. I get to shore,
conch shell in hand, and hold it to my ear.
Ear on ear
I hear only my own breathing.
MY MOTHER’S HOUSE
I dreamt of you this early morning
You were living in squalour
The bed you slept on wasn’t made
Someone had left a puddle in it
This room you lived in was small
No windows or fixtures on the ceiling
You had not wanted me to see you like this
And took me into another room
This one had high ceilings and hardwood floors
There was a painting on the wall
It wasn’t yours
All the things you made weren’t there
I did not ask if you were happy
I knew you were not, not even close
You told me you were sorry
You always do
You live here now
I wasn’t surprised, and, in fact, it made sense
In this small room
In a house my mother made for you in my dreams
NANDU
That year there was
a rhinoceros born
at the zoo. He weighed
140 pounds. They say
he gains five pounds
per day. He was named
Nandu, which means
one who is cheerful
and happy. I like
the name. It suits him.
I went to visit him
and signed up for
a membership card.
I was worried it was too
cold and he’d be indoors,
but there he was,
in the open. He looked
right at me and trotted
over. He lifted his head
and I could look at his face.
Then, he turned from me
and went back to his life
and let out gas. It was
putrid, natural, I guess.
Like a mother, I said,
Let it out, let it all out.
I told my mother
what happened. She
laughed and said,
“No one wants to be
a mother. You don’t know
until you are.”
A PEBBLE
has
so much
to say
You
threw it
out
across water,
thinking
it couldn’t
do anything there,
but it lifted
itself up
and took
down
a gulp
you couldn’t
keep sunk
O
When this letter is written out by hand
Where it begins and ends land in the same place
It is a gesture to single out what isn’t perfect
It marks an outside and an inside
And you get to decide where that is
It means what it says
It’s so matter-of-fact
Upper case or lower case it still looks the same
Sometimes it’s a number signifying nothing
Until it’s an investment return
Any other figure followed by 0 pushes its value higher
It is a mark of temperature
A degree to balance the consequence of liquid states
Cluster Page 2
