Firearms Safety

He was sleek and beautiful
like a loaded gun
and as such he was only
dangerous when someone
pulled the trigger.

But darling give
your pretty head a shake
someone will always
pull the fucking trigger
a loaded weapon is not love.



I Don’t Know If I Can Miss You, But I’ll Remember You

Whispered voices try to comfort me
and I say that I am doing fine-
I do not know how to miss
something that was never mine.
We were both forces of nature
on opposing sides most days
a chess board just for us of
attacking and counterattacking plays.
I can remember both the good and the bad
and find sleep with ease tonight
without having to wonder if
the decisions I made were right.
You and I were veterans of funerals
and you were ready to take your turn
but I’m still here with a whisky neat
thinking of you while I enjoy the burn.
I will wear a black dress once again
but without your hand to hold
amongst the tombstones I will know
it is a privilege to grow old.



We held court among
the tombstones in
their rows like dominoes
and like the game
tiles represented those
that fell and others
who quickly followed.

We understood our own
precarious position
of being players
left in a game that
could yield no winners.


Those Kind of Nights

We skidded into the
early morning with
our hazards on and
bald tires from
driving on two wheels.

I exhaled for the first
time all night and said
Higher Power, you better
be paying my guardian angel
overtime for last night.


Sidney Pier, Vancouver Island

There is a wharf I like to walk
where the pieces of broken bottles
break upon the shore until
their edges are smoothed and they
become lovely, polished sea glass
that accumulates in the pockets of
vacationers perusing beaches.

I never collect these shiny baubles
because I have always felt that
the metaphor would suggest
that we, the broken and jagged
just need to be worn down until
someone finds us safe enough
to add to their collection on shelves.

I would prefer to stay in the ocean.

Cap ou pas cap?

I will take you to a cliff
and tell you that being
with me means a lot of
leaping without looking
and trusting that
everything will work out.

You can choose to take
my hand and jump because
no reward comes without a
little risk; whether you
stay on the edge or leap
I am leaving solid ground


I am not pretty like the girls
that are champagne and roses-
I tend to favour the company
of whiskey and dahlias and
lipstick darker than my blood.
Ink on the tips of my fingers
has become my manicure of choice
and I wear more black than
a nun at night, but consider this:
maybe my sense of beauty
comes from the lack thereof.

Please do not be afraid
to sacrifice what others call beauty
in order to be who you are.



When your heart has been
kept in a cage for so long
and the prison guard
finally sets it free
it will hurt and ache
around the edges until you
realize it isn’t heartbreak
it’s you regrowing your wings.