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From the archives

The Trust Spiral

Restoring faith in the media

Our Feudal Immigration Policy

Why should an accident of birth determine who benefits from citizenship?

Liberal Interpretations

Making sense of Justin Trudeau and his party

Nothing Is Lost

 

This is for the inhabitants of unmapped prisons

for exiles of a country that never existed

for the bled

for the beggared

for thin ankles that totter in stilettos

for those that flicker in this world

never fully lit, always only almost

and especially for those who tried to know and love them.

 

Know that nothing is lost forever,

our human web

an acrobat’s safety net

folds in on itself

revealing the disappeared, the dead, the awkward and the forgotten

who come to us as overwhelmingly skittish memories

bringing with them their phantom pain.

 

Know that in the floodplains of the heart

it is up to us

to tease away conditions that were set.

Erase accommodations made by time

as their ghosts surprise us,

the way the taste of salt on the lips

lingers hours after an ocean swim.

Shannon Quinn lives in Toronto, her work has appeared in Room, Existere, Soliloquies, Maisonneuve and is forthcoming in Prairie Fire. Her debut poetry collection, Questions for Wolf, will be published by Thistledown Press in October 2015.

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