Read More: A brief A&A with Leah Callen
Spring Fever
A dirty
blonde girl breathing
green marches fast
past the bright machine
that’s yelling stay
two metres apart. Meanwhile,
below it all, a daffodil
frill defies the odds
and orders, glowing
uncontrolled
like a small sun,
a natural, neon stain
on the city uniform,
or yellow cult
that cannot read
fear or feel
human. Spreading.
And the greedy, sleek
geese take back
their perfect park.
Notes from the Director
Last night, I had a handful of red
cherries before bed
and visited David Lynch
in my dreams. I tried
to get his attention, baring all
my scars in a bloody song
like a frustrated, varied thrush
trapped in a schoolroom. I sang
to the wall where his waterglass
ear often rests on the other side,
but I couldn’t get him to come
listen. So, I sat on
a windowsill, staring at all that green
chalkboard in the sunlight
until an invitation
(luminous)
slid under
contemplation
and I flew out
the window into his hands.
Last night, I visited David Lynch
in my dreams and he drew pencil feathers
while we chatted about dry wind
and he asked me if I wanted
to read ironic comics while
he whistled and worked on his latest dream
project. Later, we’ll watch
an old silent or two, don’t worry
about anything on earth. I wondered
if he was really him or if he was
some heavenly artist sent here
just to sit in the sepia sunlight and listen
as time flickered by in filmstrip.
And then I opened up too wide
about my past and the song started
whirling into a scream. Well,
that’s enough of that, he said
as gentle as clouds, Let’s go
build some new bird nests
in your head. Last night, I had a handful of red
cherries before bed
and visited David Lynch
in my dreams.
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Afterlife
This morning, you drank
your bathwater as it turned into
milk, buttoned up the hissing
scarabs on your no-iron
blouse, felt your way
to the kitchen by following
the hieroglyphs in the hallway, tried to ignore the high
priest humming […]
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Leah Callen is a Canadian poet whose verse has appeared in The Malahat Review, Vallum Magazine, Contemporary Verse 2, Scrivener Creative Review, Kissing Dynamite, and Barren Magazine. She was longlisted for the 2020 CBC Poetry Prize.
Read More: A brief A&A with Leah Callen