Abigail Rabishaw

 



Hintonburg Elegy

In a century—

the banister is worn smooth,
an oily patina brushed on 

by a child’s sticky first steps,
or a haphazard grasp
after too much wine. 

The red porch is ground to dust,
a tired sag worn before the threshold,
leading to a door whose knob never
twists open on the first try. 

They cut down the hedges,
chopped up the trees,
cauterized the wildflowers.
Before the final string of
Christmas lights is taken down, 

an excavator will crash
through the bedroom window.
Make way for the high rise.
Later, it will floss its terrible teeth,
to rid itself of bassinets and quilts,
spitting generations into landfills. 

 

 

 

Bird Watcher’s Survival Guide

Collecting
cancelled plans 

like your
dirty laundry 

for nesting material

come spring

 

 

 

 

Anatomy of a Linocut

I stretch out on the table,
exposed for the artist.
You sketch some
grand idea of the future
you imagine I hold,
graphite’s impermanence
carving into my skin. 

A crystal ball lodged
in my throat, wishbone
embedded in my spine.
You select a scalpel,
gouge out my details. 

You carve thin strips of pink
linoleum from my chest.
Soft dust collects below my ribs,
pools in the shadow of my collarbones. 

Ink trickles from the corner of my eye,
down the bridge of my nose,
into an open mouth where
it settles, sticky in the fine lines.
Roll it thin until
I am desirable to you. 

The artist in you reaches
for the next block,
unmarked, uncarved.
Your fingertips bleed indigo,
staining everything you touch.

 

 
 

 

This Time

Road salt dissolves on my tongue
while I swallow my pride, chased with
a sip of raspberry sour. You,
with your ever changing name,
hand on my thigh, head on my shoulder,
asking if I’d stay a little longer.
Dizzy with strawberry smoke
floating between us, calloused hands
find honeyed lips, and
I stay the night.

 

 




Abigail Rabishaw (she/they) is a queer poet, writer, and editor, currently finishing a BA in English at Carleton University. Her work has appeared in Bywords, and she was runner up in the 2019 Carleton English Department Fiction Competition. Abigail edits for Prime Press, the publishing endeavour she started with her partner. You can find her on twitter @abigailrabishaw.