by Jocelyn Anderson
house show, leslieville
these women look
like they are clean
i am vinyl paint
on a wooden fence
peeling in strips
spooling on grass
Commute
Cheques cashed
(CASH LOANS, WE BUY GOLD)
beside the health food store.
Both vying to extend your lifespan.
Blessed Be
After ‘Scars’ by Camisha L. Jones
Blessed be the summer I didn’t die but could have.
Blessed be the heat in the no-fan front room
holding my body. Now, now. No sudden movements.
Blessed be the filthy housecoat
that stood in for mother’s swaddle.
Blessed be the beach, one-hundred paces south,
whose shore stayed there without me on it,
whose water came and came.
Blessed be the Johnny G’s waitress
who brought a box when I could eat no more,
who said nothing when she saw I had eaten none.
Blessed be the part-time job that came
in the nick of time, got me free
cups of tea and a nametag.
Oh, my name is:
Blessed be paychecks turned into bus fare.
The wind in my hair, fleeing Queen Street
for anywhere else, new or the same.
Blessed be the tears.
A sign of life.
Thank God.
Jocelyn Anderson is a queer poet based in New Brunswick, Canada. Her work has previously been published in CV2, The Fiddlehead, Grain, and other publications.