rob mclennan

Two Poems

I want to sleep in the runcible spoon
(after Michael Redhill

a life lived on a lake,
pale as silt never settled

we would anxiously breed
through this giant insatiable

the earliest map
of a map of the stars

deeper torn in the scene

I want to scar in the runcible spoon,
even more than I am

an hour & a half

trading glucose for mercury

twenty minutes a fresh pot



it is true I have come inside

I have a headache as wide
as the northern lights

is that canadian enough?

white wine I can’t drink
w/out frontal lobe knives

I was distracted from rapture

a snap in the sky like a tear
five minutes post-lightning

our culture been eaten to bare
small hands chew to one side

everything is illuminated
glowing tributes of storefront

like a renaissance chapel
, the cloud a low ceiling

the air on the street like a tomb

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