Dalhousie poets: countdown and repeat

countdown 

the tick of her spine 

drives me forward 

like waiting and watching 

she schedules my next move 
I run my clock on hers 
her impeccable beat 

like pounding drums and hissing snares 
or calendars on Roman time 
syncing circadian rhythm with mine 

Page Break 

catch, release, repeat 

tell me about your bloodlust 

hungry for the devil’s touch 

to feel the wolf rip into flesh 

and skin and bone 

like bread 

and to feel your mind fall to dust 

like it like red between your teeth 

cruel cold God, 

I like your tongues and nails and arteries 

I like the chase that makes my heart beat 

I like the catch and the release 

catch, hold, bite, eat, tease, leave, release 

and repeat 

east of June 

in the north, the sun grins most afternoons 

but the air still has a bite to it 

I wash dishes in the six o’clock window so I can feel the warmth coming in from the west 

it washes over the city and then comes out in waves to us.  

the year’s nearing its end so no one thinks too clearly 

instead we spit barbs through tight teeth 

and turn our fingers upwards and across the room when mistakes are made 

the sky’s kind but cool 

we still have a ways to go  

the devil’s chord 

in the grey pain of suburbia 

through the unwashed windows 

spiced heavy with cloves and tea leaves 

wavering tritone chords drift by 

lost, 

weary, 

looking for a home or a host. 

they call to the girl in the yard, 

who spins around still barefoot, 

stepping in the icy evening dew and the rotting apples that decorate the ground 

she feels the tension in her tissue, 

the hollowness in her bones, 

the decay in her paper-flaky skin. 

ah, yes. this pretty pastry will make a lovely nest. 

“Dalhousie poets” is a rotating column in the Gazette’s Art & Lifestyle section featuring poetry by students on various subjects. Interested in submitting your verse? Email arts@dalgazette.com.