2 Poems by Amy LeBlanc

Dear Emily

we share fingers
mixed with sourdough
from six years’ blood
in our glass house.

the apiary is not far off,
your matted hands
and knotted fur
can take us there:
across the winds 
and through the moors.

you caught a chill
when he died;
you broke the spell
by whittling his coat.

he made you a pen
from bitters and cloves
for drawing tonsils
by the picture window.

you see sights,
and smells,
and smoke,
and bluebells.

you overheat
and so do I–
the feverish concubines
infecting our nests,
a pollen basket
between the two of us.

we slide our hands
over combs and brushes,
but you cannot get the scent
of chalk to leave you tonight.

Dear Emily,
your cheeks blossom
grey and red
in time with the marginal
toll of the bell.
you lift your ribcage
on runny legs
feed the dogs
and close your eyes.

The Storied Life of Grace Poole

Amy LeBlanc is an MA student in English Literature and creative writing at the University of Calgary and Managing Editor at filling Station magazine. Amy’s debut poetry collection, I know something you don’t know, was published with Gordon Hill Press in March 2020. Her novella Unlocking will be published by the UCalgary Press in their Brave and Brilliant Series in 2021.  Her work has appeared in Room, PRISM International, and the Literary Review of Canada among others. Amy’s next chapbook Undead Juliet at the Museum is forthcoming with ZED Press in Spring 2021. She is a recipient of the 2020 Lieutenant Governor of Alberta Emerging Artist Award.

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