Skin

“they are moving/dressed in transparent skins” - Jane Urquhart

you remember
with each tentative step
bruises hidden beneath
red a real blue purple of
bloodblister before
falling off

like grey formed in long spindle
skull from once-dark hair
discoloured by memory
growing longer,
break off split ends shedding:

cells create scabs over blemishes
nourished by vitamin jelly
in nether regions, tender flesh
in fresh pink afterburn,
endures longer than zits,
another scarred new skin:

sometimes i wish
i could be
reptilian, leave an
entire shed shape
translucent on ground
for others to come
admire, encounter, exclaim
“she was here”
see something beautiful
left behind,
a mammalian chrysalis:

no lizard snakes
residue like this healing remnant
torn cells which grow again
after birth

delight

“Is it that the leaves feel they are fading,
that my loved ones return to the seasons where I grew up?” - Nihat Ziyalan

do you remember sugar-coated jellies shimmer in the box, some covered in creamy chocolate a treat we could give to Dad for his birthday on saint pat’s day because he really didn’t want anything but his brown eyes would open wide as the box lid lifted at the sight jewelled jelly sugar do you remember how he would take us to the Welland Canal to watch ships shift up the locks towards the Lakes let us wave to sailors who threw tins of candies & small coins missing centres from their home & native lands far away do you remember how he wrestled us after dinner roughhouse we laughed squirmed squealed three small girls not knowing this was not how every father cared do you remember when he quit smoking in 1963 how first he tried a pipe amphora wafted up stairs in our grey brick house on Lakeview we would fall asleep with the incense of daddy’s home do you remember how pleased he was when reel-to-reel tape recorders were invented he could listen after dinner in the blue-walled living room to music of mysterious men Haydn, Brahms, and Beethoven no Bach do you remember how when they moved west he came from his gov’t job to don knee high rubber boots muck out the red barn north of Saskatoon so Mom could milk her jersey cow he would skim off cream do you remember him at the head of the table carving roast she came behind him dropped kisses while the sharp knife sliced dark flesh to slow speech dinner delayed do you remember when he told us about the facts of life be careful of boys we said we already knew he asked one question( do you remember the question?) do you remember how he taught us to drive i was nervous failed he took us to Rostern to practice grid roads by the elevator train tracks do you remember when his first granddaughter was born he paced counted contractions watched her small head emerge words written for letters home every contraction do you remember

Heather Cardin holds a Master's degree in English literature from Carleton University. She taught for twenty years in several Canadian provinces and in Papua New Guinea. She has published poems with World Order and bywords.ca, was shortlisted for the Great Canadian Literary Hunt in 2004, produced the chapbook Wild Blueberries, and has been the featured reader for Sasquatch in Ottawa. She has a book on successful marriages at press in the U.S., due for release in 2006. Married and the mother of three teenagers, she currently lives in Gatineau, QC and is working on poetry and a second non-fiction manuscript.
Book Woman Blog
Heather the Poet Blog
Email: Heather Cardin

Return to Table of Contents