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14 Cards in this Set

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  • Back
The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
The Cinnamon Peeler - Michael Ondaatje
turning point in the Home Rule Movement
and led to Ceylon's independence in 1948.
(My mother had done her share too-
her driving so bad
she was stoned by villagers
Letters & Other Worlds - Michael Ondaatje
lost relatives of these
whose hooves were thunder
the ghosts of horses battering thru the wind
whose names were the wind's common usage
Cariboo Horses - Al Purdy
he wouldn't recommend it, he would say,
squeezing his spyglass shut and putting it back
in its maroon velvet box. we make the usual
small gestures of disappointment
as if we'd run out of luck in a ticket line
and i say goodbye
Elegey, the Fertility Specialist - Sharon Thesen
Later the ceasing
of the rain and a mildness
extends itself & holds me as i walk
through fragile groups of mourners
Afternoon with Liver - Sharon Thesen
there were only two corpses
on the pavement that day
and the child i will not write about
had a face as pale and trusting
as the moon
The Child Dancing - Gwendolyn MacEwen
have lots of meat
on their bones.
they're not starving,
hobbled horses
with bony, grinding hips.
Body Politics - Louise Bernice Halfe
like its name over the marsh
is touching and holding that small
manyveined
wrist
The Great Blue Heron - Don McKay
Is this
why wars are fought?
Enemy territory, no man's
land, to be entered furtively,
fenced, owned but never surely,
scene of these desperate forays
A Women's Issue - Margaret Atwood
I ask, what did they deal me in this pack?
The cards, all suits, are royal when I look.
My fingers slipping on a monarch's face
twitch and grow slack.
I want a hand to clutch, a heart to crack.
Arras - P.K. Page
and pleated and goffered, the flower-blue sea
the protean, wine-dark, grey, green, sea
with its metres of sating and bolts of brocade.
Planet Earth - P.K. Page
the poorly calculated overdose
who lies ina bed somewhere
not knowing how her life drips
through her drop by measured drop
we want to think of death
as something sudden
The Woman in This Poem - Bronwen Wallace
I can imagine them
not saying anything, sitting,
snow swirling inthe headlights, wondering
Your Body - Jan Zwicky
There was an economist
who liked to talk about poetry.

the other secretaries wondered but said nothing.
The Dress - Patricia Young