From the top of the Terminal,
your size was splayed out,
a grey **** carpet for the Red River Valley.
And The Forks right beneath
our weary walkers' feet
was a thick drop setting up in the center
of your ash grey forehead.
Traced a thumb down Taché and St. Mary's
to the peak of your left cheek on Fermor.
Your traffic light glance blinked us
right to a stop
as blue bomb thoughts and temperatures dropped
at the base of our minds
and your wide, widow's peak sky
formed a cold iron bruise 40 minutes past 5.
I've held your muddy diamond eyes
in mine, how many times?
And you'd sigh, sometimes
from your North End scar,
but the Assiniboine bends around Wellington Crescent,
a stifled, spiced laugh from the failed rebellion
of your Province's youth.
And you know I'm no novice
to the uncouth barbs of the Winter,
'cuz you wrapped asphalt arms
nice and tight
'round our shoulders.
Osborne & Morley for an A-frame embrace.
The face of a city, its wrinkles a sketch
of laugh line drives for donuts and coffee.
Crows' feet stretched through The Exchange.
We followed your grin
from
corner to corner,
from Richardson Airport
to Transcona Yards; one earring a lifeline,
the other, steel bones.
From your St. Norbert chin,
to your twin St. Paul crown,
we would wander,
kiss your River East temple
then call it a night.
I have names for every smile you gave me:
Vi-Ann in the Village,
The Toad in the Hole,
St. Boniface Cathedral, that first time
in deep snow.
I want you to know,
you frozen Great City,
your terrible beauty is written on me.
Each side-slanted grin I shared with your sidewalks
encircles my history now,
even still.
Fill an eye with 5 years
of joyous, drunk laughter
which seeds your purple sand sky with fog ghosts.
Still-frame your patchwork, frostbitten face--
the Perimeter Highway's a jaunt-angled toque;
keeps you warm--
I still wear you
when late Autumn light takes me back.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
From the top of the Terminal,
your size was splayed out,
a grey **** carpet for the Red River Valley.
And The Forks right beneath
our weary walkers' feet
was a thick drop setting up in the center
of your ash grey forehead.
Traced a thumb down Taché and St. Mary's
to the peak of your left cheek on Fermor.
Your traffic light glance blinked us
right to a stop
as blue bomb thoughts and temperatures dropped
at the base of our minds
and your wide, widow's peak sky
formed a cold iron bruise 40 minutes past 5.
I've held your muddy diamond eyes
in mine, how many times?
And you'd sigh, sometimes
from your North End scar,
but the Assiniboine bends around Wellington Crescent,
a stifled, spiced laugh from the failed rebellion
of your Province's youth.
And you know I'm no novice
to the uncouth barbs of the Winter,
'cuz you wrapped asphalt arms
nice and tight
'round our shoulders.
Osborne & Morley for an A-frame embrace.
The face of a city, its wrinkles a sketch
of laugh line drives for donuts and coffee.
Crows' feet stretched through The Exchange.
We followed your grin
from
corner to corner,
from Richardson Airport
to Transcona Yards; one earring a lifeline,
the other, steel bones.
From your St. Norbert chin,
to your twin St. Paul crown,
we would wander,
kiss your River East temple
then call it a night.
I have names for every smile you gave me:
Vi-Ann in the Village,
The Toad in the Hole,
St. Boniface Cathedral, that first time
in deep snow.
I want you to know,
you frozen Great City,
your terrible beauty is written on me.
Each side-slanted grin I shared with your sidewalks
encircles my history now,
even still.
Fill an eye with 5 years
of joyous, drunk laughter
which seeds your purple sand sky with fog ghosts.
Still-frame your patchwork, frostbitten face--
the Perimeter Highway's a jaunt-angled toque;
keeps you warm--
I still wear you
when late Autumn light takes me back.
At first, I kinda thought this one was gonna **** Now, I kinda like it. Though I never really intended it this way, it seems I've sort of ended up composing a series of pieces about/related to Winnipeg, MB, Canada and the people I know/experiences I've had there. I'd say it sort of began (I thiiiink?) with "Re: Bells, My Note," which I still think is the best thing I've ever written...At any rate, while I love writing these ones, I think this will probably be the last of its kind that I write (at least for the time being), as I think this one ties them all together nicely and I want to avoid getting entirely too trite with them. Cheers.
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