Author Archives: lorraine minosky

Minosky Assign 2 Proxy Poem

August Evening

When did the wolf change?

When did he decide to step into the fire-warmed circle?

When did the wolf become a dog?

This dog right here, I mean–

the one who has settled by my side on the lawn chair,

the one who is gazing out into the vastness of the evening sky,

who is cocking his head

who is twitching his moist nose, sniffing life.

Now he fixes a stare on me, and says not a word but speaks volumes.

Now he wriggles in closer and nuzzles the crook of my arm.

I don’t know exactly what love is.

I do know how to search soulful eyes,

how to look for understanding and see myself,

how to bury my face in musky fur, how to revel in rancid kisses,

how to call and come in return,

how to walk side by side each day, how to be still and listen

Which is what I have been doing all evening.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Aren’t dogs just a fanciful creature of our possession?

Tell me, what creature are you going to invite into your home,

To teach your heart to grow?

Minosky Assignment 1

Community Center

Angelo’s yellow jacket lies neatly folded

In the worn, wooden cubby

A single banana lies resting on top

A familiar sight for 15 years

Same jacket, different banana

 

My places have steadily been demolished

These last 15 years

Victims to economy and bulldozers

Washed away by my own personal tsunami

Homes, schools

People

Everything is different

Except the welcoming arms of the automatic doors

As I enter my community centre

 

I stuff my bag into the neighbouring cubby

And smile at the familiar jacket

I tug my muggy gloves on and give them a sniff, wince

I become part of the collective musk.

 

I enter the labyrinth

My metal, blue vinyl-pewed church

And become numbed by the thump, thump, thump of

Trodding on the treadmill

Running rapidly to nowhere

Rebooting my frantic mind with movement and music

 

I trundle around,

Engaging in the rhythmic movement

Pushing and pulling and lifting

Creating microscopic tears in my muscles

Preparing my body to repair

Preparing for the real weights

 

Friends approach and smile

Many with the measured steps of deceptively delicate insects

As they make their way around the labyrinth

Supported by walkers, chairs, canes,

Human hands

Waging wars

Collectively delusional in our quest to gain control

Over body, mind and time

We walk the wheel

In our suburban sanctuary of incremental miracles

Nobody leaps out of their chairs or tosses their crutches

Yelling hallelujah

 

I lie on the blue plastic mat

Contemplate the fluorescent lights, suspended and swaying ever so slightly

Watch the silent ballet around me

Slightly out of synch with the soft intonations of Joni Mitchell in my ears

 

As I gather my bag from my cubby

I notice that the yellow jacket and banana are gone

I emerge from my

Community chrysalis

Hobbling but hopeful,

Knowing that I will be back

Steve McQueen of Ladner

Hey, do rats dream?
Whatever possessed him
To build his dream home under the hood
Of our 2012 Mustang?

Did he have dreams?
Of rising up
Out of his gutter life of
Rummaging, pillaging, scrounging
Vermin of 52 Avenue

What was he thinking when he heard
The click of the key,
The slam of the door
Sucking in his tiny breath
Ready to let his mottled fur fly
Living for the thrill
As he rode that 350 horse power
through the streets of Ladner

When he sat
Hunkered down under the hood
Adrenaline surging
In the Save-on-Foods parking lot
Did he know what he was in for again?
Addicted to the rush?

Is that what drew him back last night?
As his entrails exploded,
Dreaming in his Warfarin haze.
Steve McQueen of Ladner,
Writhing under the hood
A life misspent on cars
Ending in intravascular coagulation