Migrant
Swallow’s wing dismembered
mud-slick among the rushes
I pick you up
limp rag of feathers blue-black flattened vanes
bound to broken forelimbs
arm fused wrist hand three fingers
hollow origami bones
weight one ounce
you passerine long distant migrant
hugging the coast to South America
back in May
I bury your wing in the dark cello nest of earth
mute
mutable.
Afternoon in winter
Raw umber no other colour
you lay it on the white paper
with a fine brush
and it streams down slowly
slowly
staining the white
the white is of snow
that day by the river
the umber is of reeds locked in ice
no stirring
no wind even
you must capture this
how you felt standing by the river
in the winter
how you crouched among the stalks
unseen
how the reeds towered
how their frayed dried heads bowed
and bent in the cold
and how the sky was grey
and how
in the white snow under the reeds
you lay your body down
as on a bed
as in
a shelter
and cried for beauty
and death.
VICTORIA LEBLANC is a writer, artist, and curator. Contributor to over 40 publications on Canadian artists. In 2019, she published her first collection of poetry, Hold. Forthcoming: Mudlark.As a visual artist, she has participated in solo and group exhibitions across Canada. Former Director of the Visual Arts Centre and McClure Gallery (1996-2017). Curator of City of Westmount Gallery since 1998.