On St. Lucia's day when I was twelve I lit
the candles of the table wreath, put it on my head,
and walked upstairs.
I held a
thawed-out muffin, and a cup of coffee on a tray.
What a fright I gave my mother,
coming slowly up her stairs — the candles
hovering at conflicted angles above my head,
and my long old fashioned nightgown
tripping me a little on the way.
How kind she should have noticed, then, and
mentioned, my extraordinary
beauty in that moment.
Before she leapt at me and blew the candles out.
her debut book of poems Late Nights With Wild Cowboys
was published in 2008 from Gaspereau Press.
A native of Meadowville, Nova Scotia, she currently lives
in Tucson, Arizona.
The Sentimentalists (fiction)
This Will Be Difficult to Explain, and Other Stories (fiction)
I Do Not Think That I Could Love a Human Being (poetry)
Late Nights with Wild Cowboys (poetry)
I Had Imagined Them, Unthinkingly
Where do they go in this
part of the world?
unthinkingly, in the
southern part of Florida with
ours, or down as far as
As if all
birds met there, like