Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Down the street from Gwen's head

Caucasian woman, late 20s, with short brown curly hair, wearing jean skirt, white long sleeved tee and pale pink scarf.

The Refrigerator Memory, Shannon Bramer (Coach House Books)

Page 51:

From "Toronto, City of Sad Faces"

He hums inside his solitary body,
flourishes on the subway, unfolds stiff newspaper wings.

Ships, slugs on the horizon.
The sun slips down in you.

Daughter, let the raccoon in.
Hold his cold hand.

It's not as simple as "the little details." Or, "It's all in the details." It's that feeling you get when you read something small, something familiar and ordinary, a few words that placed one in front or behind the other make you believe that you really can do it, that your few words will count for something, that someone will appreciate the image of an aging woman speeding into town for mass, her body warmed by the second-hand fur bungeed to the driver's seat.

No comments: