Entomology (excerpt)

This is an excerpt out of “Entomology,” a poem that was published in The Lamp out of Queen’s University:

It seemed to cling to its stiff afterlife, hanging

with vanity, fear, and needles piercing its carapace.

The feelers still sprawled out like delicate fingers feeling

for a latch, but frozen once caught in the act of living.


To live by touch alone and scent, a menacing

figure of tenderness. The song it sung for its short,

rough-spun life. That haphazard start and the abrupt

end of its line, cut.


Its shine was spared. Free to wander through the insect

museum and gild obscure corners of our thoughts

with the cunning of lost things which grow great, but less.


Cuorodoro (excerpt)

This is an excerpt from “Cuorodoro,” a poem that was published in The Lamp  out of Queen’s University:

Mum hated trinkets. We were so glad

she had grown attached. It offset

her new-age philosophies. No more sermons

on impermanence.

She even started dyeing her hair again:

It coiled, it wisped with auburn decadence.

It breathed, it called for fire.

She started marking time,

made pining eyes at clocks, chiselled tasks

into her schedule with dedication,

shamelessly pressed flowers.