Orphaned, around the world you sail your ship of hope, a blackened scow men muttering in darkness, babies wail. Mothers, grandmothers dipping bale -ful crusts in strongest tea allowed. Orphaned, around the world you sail slung in stacked coffins, you’re availed some snatch of sleep up in the prow men muttering in darkness. Babies wail their cries piercing your drifting veil of dreams . . .
Published in TOK: Writing the New Toronto, Book 3. Purchase the book to read the full piece.
Toronto locations referenced in this piece
“Orphaned, around the world you sail and sliding into Union . . . ” —Union Station
“ . . . ride the rail of hopes hanging like socks ’cross rooming-house row men muttering on Markham, babies wail no more . . . ” —Markham St.