REFUGE(E) If I could speak to you clearly like everyone does speak in good English not like some new ignorant who thinks grammar is his mother’s mom. We’d come to communicate. But you don’t learn a language you catch it like chicken spots. You and me we would paint and so we needn’t speak. I’d paint like that Spanish Goya guy, he knew a lot. I’d paint pictures of men lined up waiting to be shot, he knew peace is the space while everyone reloads. What would you paint? Flowers? Beaches? Puddy cats? By the way, did I say I love you? Pow . . . ow. . . wow. Well, love’s full of bullet holes for sure, mine come in threes. Self love, self loathing, self- annihilation. Mine’s that heartbeat you feel in your ears before the firing, what’s yours? Don’t laugh, I know more of you than you think, I’ve lived eight lives, you have your nine. Can I come back soon, after I rethink time, my time before all things left off? After this I’ll see more clearly where I ended, re-form, learn to say you not I. I’ll be Torontonian.
From the poem Refuge(e), inspired by the word "Transform." This poem by Margaret Hollingsworth won in the GTA category of the Star's poetry Week.Â
