A Month in Manitoba


Preface/disclaimer/warning: I was young, eighteen, and generally terrified of life.

These are the days that I sketch
and shelve in my head,
the days I can trace a line
around earth and sky, green and blue,
the toy farm house at the side
the plastic animals.

I’ve laid on this chess square
and yellowed the grass below me
for 18 days and he hasn’t come.

The line smudges.
The animals unscrew their heads screaming.