Fortune

Somehow, I caught a fly with vinegar;
not a no—my acidic tongue

wouldn’t utter that lie.
The corner store beside my subway

sells the only brand of ice cream I like.
You found it with few clues,

guided the spoon to my tongue
under the pink heat of High Park

Now that I have you,
illusions of greater gambles

slide their way up my thigh:
the paradox of intolerance

You are not going anywhere,
but it is not fear that

lies between us in bed
its fingers in my mouth

 

/

Terese Mason Pierre is a Toronto-based writer, editor and organizer whose poetry has appeared in the Hart House Review, The Brasilia Review, Bad Nudes, Half a Grapefruit, The Collapsar, and others. She is the poetry editor of Augur Magazine and a co-host of Shab-e She'r poetry reading series. Her first chapbook is forthcoming with Anstruther Press. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @teresempierre.

 

TERESE PIERRE

 
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