Reid@YWP

I remember taking Polaroids with you

In the driveway of the house you’ve now sold

On a grey afternoon that looked like night

In the photos. We’d wait impatiently

Dear Canada, 

You do not belong to us. 

You never have. 

And I really, really hope you never will. 

You are your own country, but I know I don’t have to tell you that. 

I catch a glimpse. 

from afar, 

the shine of his silky hair in the golden sunlight

his expression unreadable, 

as if he's pondering something he'd never tell a soul. 

Kathy watched out her window as Samuel left his apartment, 

spit his gum on the ground

and lit his cigarette. 

the same as yesterday. 

the same as every day. 

Were you put here only to provide contrast?

Your gruesome body zooming in and out of my vision gives something to compare to the flower.