Dust bunnies chase me through the apartment.
The plants are wilting.
I’m writing a book.
None of this has ever happened before.
L. Fraser, 1996
Dust bunnies
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Category Archives: Poetry
We were 16.
We were 16
sitting on the curb after late shift,
scraping grease and French fries
off our regulation white shoes
with a stone.
We smoked cigars
in the McDonald’s parking lot
where $3.85 an hour
is power.
Taurus
The king’s anger quakes the earth,
buries men alive, splits women open.
Soil-scented pleasures
inflicted by him, mud-wet
treasures and swords
belong to him.
He planned it all out as a boy
on a pile of dirt
in his friend’s driveway.
Porch nap
Parents and children
who slept through
the afternoon heat
call to one another.
Clotheslines squeak.
Wind lightly fingers
thin clay chimes.
-Laurie Fraser
Kiss summer
Kiss my watermelon breath.
Feel summer
on the backs of my knees.
Touch me.
I will turn gold.
rue Mont Royal
Easter Sunday.
Mont Royal metro station
Spring sun opens my eyes-
white curtains, lime walls
church bells chime.
Spring sun hits sidewalk.
Many feet hit rue Mont Royal-
some of them furry.
Some stop at the Metro-
$2.00 maple taffy
from a tray of sweet snow.
Spring sun sings with me,
a fiddle, a guitar and an accordion.
I don’t know how long I will dance here,
who will speak to me,
where the flow of feet will lead me
next.
110 cm in 7 days
Nepali prayer flags
110 cm of snow in 7 days.
We are beleaguered,
buried now.
Shovelling is futile.
Through the top third of the window
we see grey sky,
horizontal snow,
blue lightening.
We put wood in the stove
and talk about God.
Community Kitchen
Community Kitchen
Literacy 3 class made stone soup.
Eman brought onions.
Ling: lemon.
Anisah: carrots.
Hamed: lentils.
Others: celery, mushrooms,
tofu, tomato, parsley, pasta,
spices I couldn’t translate.
I brought 2 huge pots,
plenty of take-home containers.
I taught food words, cooking words,
“community kitchen”.
It turned out pretty good-
one Asian, one Middle-Eastern.
After lunch, the pots were empty;
the take-home containers were empty.
“Where is the soup?” I asked.
“Will you take soup home for your family tonight?”
“Finished!” They laughed.
“Why finished?”
“Free! Students eat.”
They’d given it away.
“150 students?” I asked.
“Yes. Students happy lunch free school today!”
Pleased proud Literacy 3
taught me “community”.
Again.
-Laurie Fraser
Kurdish poetry
Jaffer Sheyholislami, Words and Kurds, Nov. 2014
Separation by Sherko Bekes
From my poems, if you take away flowers,
One of my four seasons will die
If you take away the wind,
Two of my seasons will die.
If you take away bread,
Three of my seasons will die.
If you take away freedom,
My whole year will die,
and so will I.
Translated by Jaffer Sheyholislami
as performed at Words and Kurds Cultural Event, November 15, 2014
Dixie
Bright red turtleneck wiggles, trapped, “Down.” “Down!” She is lifted by the bib of her overalls and dropped to the ground: a bag of hard apples rolling rosy-cheeked through the autumn leaves.