Fowl

By Michael Lista Michael Lista
The girl from Scarborough liked being slapped
Down the hall from where her mother slept.

A big, hard-working hand, anybody’s
To come medicinally down, antibody

To the slow infection of   her Western face
(what sucked the most was that it wasn’t fast).

Some birds don’t migrate. Above, two lonely fowl
Scream across the sky their only vowel.

This river I step in is not the river
I stand in. We’ll drive to Leslieville, wherever,

Park in the Guildwood GO lot and get stoned.
Who’s there? Nay, answer me. Stand

And unfold yourself. Her heart begins to pound.
No geese go winging to the rooky pond

No goslings disappear their small and speckled.
If we endure this, it will make us special.

NOTES: Read the Q&A with Michael Lista about this poem

Source: Poetry (December 2012).

 Michael  Lista

Biography

Michael Lista is the author of Bloom (House of Anansi Press, 2010). He is poetry editor of the Walrus and poetry columnist for the National Post. He lives in Toronto.

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, Life Choices, Social Commentaries, Cities & Urban Life

Poetic Terms Couplet, Rhymed Stanza

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Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

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