SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
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Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Wednesday, Mar. 05, 2008 @ 8:51 pm
Wake Up



We live on the siren route. Double pained windows. This is the city.

The alarm goes off at seven a.m. At the same time, a float plane in the harbour roars into the air.

I wake early now. The movement of the people, so busy in their lives, makes me feel guilty for being in bed.

Another siren. These are not crime sirens; these are seniors' sirens. I watch them from above, the seniors, on their long walk down the block. More coats than bodies.

I pace the hallway of our new apartment: 50 years old. I'm occupying too much space. My hair has grown so long, too long for my age. My age.

I watched a nurse hold open the door for one of the paramedics. No rush. Were you the one who was here yesterday?

Deep in the night, voices wake me. A couple walks by, arguing their last disagreement. She says,

You have no more chances.




Roots | Shoots