the gopher in the bathroom floor
stuck its tongue out at me and
it didn’t understand my peeing
into a basin of water cold—
deep underground river brought
up here for this purpose? stupid
night bus to montréal passeth
seven nights from now might i
be on the same bus and route
home-printed and hand-bound
copies of from the book that
doesn’t close because the real
is suspended–waiting on ottawa
or more precisely hull to deliver
and not the snow si’l vous plaît
air damp enough to cut through
flesh to our aching old bones
—only a week until the war
ends (again) and the red poppies
with green then black centres
are returned to the ground
at the foot of so many memorials
from ocean to ocean to ocean
04 November 2008
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