This is an addition to the CanLit poetic tradition of sex-at followed by a few (Barry McKinnon, Brian Fawcett, George Stanley, Artie Gold, rob mclennan, Mark Cochrane and Kate Van Dusen) of checking in with how sex is every few years.
sex at 38 ii: I don’t want to washSex in Sevens
the sheets. it would lose the kelp
the duck potatoes, the fish. I want
to wake inside smells of the lake
a homeopathic tincture of your sun lotion
I know – hope springs infernal idiot and our tomorrow will feel nothing like this. a loss of self but hard to-mow-row
is tomorrow’s field of weeds. life’s forwards memory lives backwards from here, now.
let me drowse in the scents of muskgrass
and yellow pond lilies, believe in
how water holds us as we swim.
What People Said:
“I have been known to say that I am not a big fan of ‘sex poetry’. What I really mean is that I am not generally a fan of ‘erotic poetry’, though there have been exceptions. This is the former without being the latter. The sex is there, but it certainly does not mean to titillate, rather… illuminate? Causing you to ruminate? Or maybe just enjoy. This is a very good chapbook by a very good poet. Thanks to rob mclennan for passing this beauty my way. Thanks to Pearl for writing it.” — Rusty Priske on Sex in Sevens