Winter – Pauline Peters

(After Sappho)

The thought of you passes through me
like the shadow of a bird’s wing.
My calm is undone.
My womb cries out and
I unravel like a thread in the fabric
of your discarded silk blouse.
The pavements we walked are
tombstones planted in the grass.
I am spirit with no song.
My tongue mangles speech.
Ghosts bask in a sun
whose touch I cannot feel.

Pauline Peters is a queer African-Canadian writer living in Toronto. Her work has been published in Canadian Literature, Room, The Fiddlehead, PRISM international, The Malahat Review and elsewhere. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and her chapbook The Salted Woman is available through Hedgespoken Press.