roaches

he is a nice enough guy- slick hair, polished shoes

and she’s pretty good at keeping up with the laundry.

the kids are cute- all freckles and missing teeth,

they traipse mud through the house

it’s difficult to keep the floor clean.

he’s out late again tonight,

driving his car down side streets

but she never waits up anymore.

doesn’t want to see him wash the quiet secrets from his face

before he climbs in and soils her sheets.

her eyes close to the sound 

of his shame, her own denial…

these roaches-

crawling under the darkened shades of family life.

they make their home in the cracks of her’s.

but she knows tomorrow,

she will let them stay.

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we tried making sense of our world. we ate strawberry jam for breakfast, we dragged our stuffed pets behind us on strings, we jumped on trampolines. we found a jungle in our backyard- the ballerina, the fireman and me. we swung from the branches of trees, took in long car drives from the back seat, invited the garden fairies for a cup of sugary tea.

we tried making sense of our world. we built sandcastles to house our unanswered questions- most of which we had inherited before we’d even learned to spell. we didn’t always know where to take them so we took them to each other. or they took them to me. they (the cinnamon-bun-boy with the trusting eyes, the girl with the bangs and the most eager smile) they were mine to care for.

And I (the girl who wished away her freckles) I told stories in the dark to chase away their unwelcomed dreams. I grasped at broken branches, at cobwebs, at any water droplets I could reach- trying to button something together they could stand on. I so meant to be the fearless leader. Always hoping they wouldn’t notice the holes in my sneakers, wouldn’t notice that my worldview was just a few sizes too big.

this city i call my home.

welcome to Vancouver
population: a hierarchy
of inequality

this city I call my own...

from the windows of my rented home
I watch the birds fly off and away
to the nests they've built in the 'burbs
can't help but think it's a little absurd...
you know, 
some of my neighbours can't afford to stay

in this 
landscape of decay
values in dis-array
this city I walk everyday

this city I call my own...
home.