Beforetimes. A glistening organ of optimism.
No. The naïveté of physics, of knowing
gravity as the only agent of falls.
No. Beforetimes as shimmering orchid
as belief in the quiet energy that gathers
shoots forth a bud a day before trash collection.
Before that even. Picking up leaves, precious
as heirlooms, placing them carefully on the dresser.
Aftertimes. Self-reliance as carved marble.
Everyone who has my name is almost gone.
Oh but the blessings of your sweet milk head.
Oh but the blessings of your fierce
_ little arms.
The fear one day I’ll be gone.
Vivian Vavassis is a Montréal ex-pat who lives in Ottawa and calls both
cities home. Her poems and essays have appeared in Prairie Fire, Arc, ottawater, Paris Lit Up, Peter
F. Yacht Club, Glosas for P.K. Page, phafours press publications, and Studies in
Canadian Literature, among others. Her chapbook XII was
published by Textualis Press. She has been shortlisted for the Diana
Brebner Prize twice, and her work was featured in the Parliamentary Poet
Laureate's Poem of the Month program. Once upon a time, she ran a little
‘zine, and she currently is working on a manuscript.
