A time, more than a breath, more than me
moving into darkness to begin.
The husky brush of your voice against my ear
a puzzle, unblocked and shifted. Swings
still moving, a postage stamp drifts to the floor.
Those cold weather blooms, short-lived and tentative
and I let my breath pool, feel its fragility.
If I were carving the truth from apple trees
I’d be careful of the scar I leave.
A slip of the knife, cutting through years
or turned on a burl back at me
my hand bleeding. I’ll wait
to wolf sandwiches from the basket,
keep the cold startled gaze for you.
Keep your distance, never mind.
Note: “Distance” is a response of sorts to John Ashbery’s poem “The Problem of Anxiety”
Frances Boyle is the author of two poetry books, most recently This White Nest (2019) as well as Seeking Shade, an award-winning short story collection (2020) and Tower, a Rapunzel-infused novella (2018). She is a Canadian writer living in Ottawa, whose poetry and short stories have appeared throughout North America, in the U.K. and continental Europe. Recent and forthcoming publications include work in Blackbird, Best Canadian Poetry 2020, Prairie Fire, The Wild Word and Minola Review. Her third poetry collection, Openwork and Limestone is forthcoming in 2022. Visit www.francesboyle.com and follow @francesboyle19.