Posed By Roses
In the family album, this small portrait
(so old and cracked, itís kept in plastic)
of you, Aunt Fran, in First Communion
dress and veil.
It is impossible to look at you for long.
You are too open; a face, bone hollow,
the eyes, pre-flight,
staring from the frame.
In all this retrospective,
these faces held, fossils in amber,
thereís none so fitted for the light as you;
skin like milk, pure, from the pitcher.
I want to pour you on strawberries.
Polar in your innocence, posed by roses,
that are forever on the cusp of opening,
like you, so luminous and grave,
your almost-smile, an aperture to time itself.
These words for a girl in her instant of pure light.
-- M. E. Csamer
Andrea Thompson (left) reads to an Australian tourist at the CN Tower in Toronto
Random Acts of Poetry
“I love to promote poetry anywhere, will stop strangers to read them poems and otherwise commit random acts of poetry. I thought it would be a good idea for poets across Canada to do the same thing.”
-- Wendy Morton, Founder