appealing

The Maynard
Spring 2018

Lisa Richter
0:00
 
 

Ghazal with Malbec, No Cigarettes

Crouching in tall grass by the prairie dugout at sunset, a black cat
swivels its owlish head in my direction, then quickly looks away.

Church Street, my old neighbourhood, post-Pride. A kicked
pop can’s skidding metallic slices through my new tinnitus.

Peggy’s Cove, late December. We stand parallel with a lighthouse
beneath the wind-washed sky. The roughness of the sea’s burly pelt.

Harold and Maude, my nth viewing. A military cemetery, tombstones
teething verdant fields. Where have you gone, Yusuf Islam?

New Year’s Day, we parse the thinning light over 3 p.m. breakfast.
Outdoors, the crunch of snow-boots. Sparrows scour the ice for crumbs.

Red-eye flight, YVR to YYZ. Beyond the portal, there is nothing
but watery dark. I’ve lost interest in my book. Everyone sleeps but me.

Tenth month of grief. My father was never dying, only suddenly, dead.
In the silent kitchen, I switch on CBC radio, fill a glass with dry red.