Tilting

Excerpt

Stones do not contain them, by Sylvia Adams

There are times when the dead don't want to know us.
We look for them everywhere
remembering how they left
their slipper-shod prints across the carpet;
how she lost whole days lying in bed
with a damp cloth over her eyes
while he rattled the cups in the kitchen, making tea;
how in summer he fished from the dock
while she crocheted under an elm.
Everywhere is quiet, like post-orgasmic slumber.

We look for them at the corner store, sniffing a melon
or counting out every penny so's not to break a bill.
The streets throng with the haunted, the pavement throbs,
the post box overflows, boys ride bikes in circles;
in the harbour the waves break lightly
echoing calls for the dead.

We find them living in trees, or the flat above us,
getting on with their deaths - just as they did with their lives.
How bereft we feel when they don't acknowledge us waiting
at the far end of the hedge, where we hid when they called us to bed -
not even a nod as they shuffle
up the street up the street
seeking the shade, toting cheese biscuits and Chivers marmalade.

Have they given up waiting for us - we who are so slow -
or is it just that they know
exactly where we are - and always did?

(from Tilting, p. 15)

Overview

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Chapbook Details

Availability

Most bookstores in the Ottawa area, and from the publisher.

Publisher

ADAR Press
1402-2625 Regina Street
Ottawa, Ontario. K2B 5W8 Canada