Naomi Guttman

  Donny plays like he’s fighting for his life, like he’s flushing a fever, saving orphans, damming a flooding river. Forgive the jagged attack. Play with the fury of the bereaved. Like soldiers they’d tried to communicate over static smoke. The war has no solution for marriage. Start with warning shots. Kandahar is the backdrop of the…

Let the zone of perpetual snow not disappear. Let the world be be white: from Chibougamau, to Blanc Sablon, from Drummondville to Lac St-Jean, from Metagami to Rivière-du-Loup, let candles of snow light forests and flakes descend in capes and saucers, sleepily silver and white. Remember how it began: from school windows in naptime hush we watched as chalk dust shook loose from plump…