Friday, 28 December 2012

At the 28th and the 9th

I once lived in Claremont,
At the 28 th and the 9th.
On 35 acres expropriated
By a Liberal majority
That could not defeat the grass roots
But for us it was paradise
a pond we swam
a garden we tended
a Great Dane and a Terrier,
Harley and Pom Pom

And we took in a homeless lady
Who later died of Lymphoma
She slept opposite a sheet
On a mattress
In front of the fire in winter
And with the French doors wide
In summer sweet nights
And a young girl adopted
after 5 homes
And a schizophrenic man
Who had a squirrel in his throat
And a niece like a daughter
Whose family were odd
And considered her the reason.

I had seen owls as
Small as a palm
And beavers that damned
Everything they could
And coyotes with night screams
That put notes on your skin
Geese and ducks
partridge and pheasant
and vultures that flew
like planes circling

I invited MacMain
from prison
And he fit right in
Caught brook trout
Crawling on his belly
With a line on a stick
And a worm on a hook
And he pulled up a dozen
muscled actions
of defiance.

The house was full
people dropping in
they had no where
To go
nowhere to be Loved
nowhere to be unlonely
 in those days
We were richly blessed.

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