The 2011 edition of UTSC’s art journal Scarborough Fair!
*
city lights are passing
they remind me
of whispering words of sweet inspiration in the back of cabs,
my body flowing into yours with every sharp turn and quick stop
as if I were the rolling hills of your desert plane back
never ending and smooth, sprinkled with freckles of sand grains
and red swipes of a lion’s paw whose origins are still unknown,
or the sand dune arcs and notches of your spine
carefully separated by coasts of cartilage
there should be a book composed of
the whispered words
that flowed between us like water
a desert never sees
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