Pearl Pirie

by volume most of the world is sky to leap into

            for Kimberly Fahner

I have gangly tomato seedlings to harden off
and windowsill of herbs that fork neurons—

the outer edge of your Essex forest 
is on my screen—
through my eyes 
I can breathe its leaf duff.

we, like roots, respond to water, green, pull
back slack to reach and strain.

sneaky cat leaps, stalks the butter on the counter
however low you crawl, we can still see you, Brian says

I’m stuffed
with laughter, stuffed

the sunset embarrasses human art attempts.
the petals of clouds
make leaves for the late-budding ginkgo.

a brief check-in from Dotoli

            for Kyonghwan ‘Dotoli’ Choi

how can we say what changed when all is in motion?
where we each call home is unfamiliar new.

if only I could I’d feed you again Fatima’s sambosas
Amal’s fatoush, Nasrah’s ful and Chung’s egg tarts.

after military service your face is solemn, squared,
student baby fat given way to holding a baby.

your girl gets belts in Tae-kwon-do.
time flies in nanoseconds to middle manager.

your black plastic eyeglass frames and suits.
your world travels while I become a homebug.

will you see America again and the spur-line of Canada?
summer lies between us, peak after peak.

Pearl Pirie lives in rural Quebec where she works at a charity shop and as a librarian. She has won various national award for her books and poems. She assists poets with their manuscripts through Chalkpaths, her editing service and gives workshops on poetry. Her latest publication is Call Down the Walls (Frog Hollow Press).