Bitch
“Bitch, ahem. Don’t
Call on the cell phone.”
He uses his right leg
Like an amphitheatre. (a
Deranged dog’s automated
Voice messaging.)
He can’t
Take more of
It.
His orders
For coke
Are slow.
There was the
Little girl in the
Tub w/bruises.
The Formica
Table top that
Got lost moving day.
A cat.
Things he couldn’t use.
His parents found a Bruce
Lee anthology in a drawer
Of woman’s underwear. He
Just said, that it was the 70s. He was 15.
Then there’s the
Pregnant women’s
Shelters,
How he slows down
For them.
Like they’re
In the rain.
There was a man
On a stretcher
He loaned
A dollar to.
His cousin’s still
Missing his batting
Practice with
2 figures. Starsky/Hutch.
His mother’s
Neighbor
Hair color
Disappeared
A number 072
w/ Woman’s World
magazine.
And the beta
Fish tank-foldable, cardboard
Went with the
Guy on the street.
Maggie Mortimer worked as a book reviewer for the National Post and The Globe & Mail. The poem “Bitch” is from her first collection, CRASH, to be published later this year.