Menu
Subscribe
Search
Poem of the Month
K’tunaxa

By Mark Abley

Published on July 7, 2015

A conversation of ravens, hurled into
               the wind as it pushes low
across the dry forget-me-not ridges,
               the green flats of the Bow,

echoes off the scree like verbs from the tongue
               of travellers who knew each gap
in the cloud peaks, harvesting the valleys,
               retreating before the snow,

verbs in a language without relatives,
               a relic on a ripped map,
mouths that possessed a word for “starving
               though having a fish trap.”

More Poetry

The Kingdom Is

September 2014
The kingdom is up to you. Like the manette the cashier hands you at the grocer’s — “your turn”; “c'est à vous.”

Abundance

October 2013
The streets of the living are among the streets of the dead, the houses of the living among the houses of the dead – three centuries of dead packed close, stacked twelve deep. On stones, scissors mark a tailor, grapes announce abundance.

The Story of Bones

October 2015
The archaeologist’s daughter grew up in tombs. She spent her early childhood crawling through the volcanic ash, which preserved time. Her father dug tunnels in the ground, uncovered death masks, stumbled upon bones of winged beasts, while her baby hands clutched the cold earth.