Your face has that kindness

foreign to me.

 

Your ease in transit

on a Tuesday holiday-eve

 

radiates ‘family’

 

like your soft voice does,

and your worn brown boots.

 

The voice in your ear, I gather, agreed readily

to pick you up at Don Mills

 

and as we neared blackness

you warned:

 

I’m gonna lose you,

and after you said it you studied your palm

 

clapped it to your ear again

and tried, in any event: I love you.

 

You came from goodness.

 

The salty subway does not twist your gut

like it twists mine.

---

Elizabeth is a doctoral researcher of transformational, poetic literacy practices at the University of Toronto. She is originally from Menlo Park, California and was once a Classical scholar at U.C. Berkeley where she earned her bachelor’s degree. She now lives in Toronto with her husband and in addition to academic research writes narrative, poetry and hybrid works. Connect with her online and on Twitter: @The_Boltron