Selected Poems
Tabarnak, Calisse
The last time we met
she did not speak and dragged her fingertips
over my lips, to silence me, and sent me away.
When I returned home
I dragged my mouse across her words. I could read her
cursive snow-white clouds on square dwarf blue skies.
By performing cyber stunts and cursor loop de loops
the more words that were found, my disappointments rose.
No one sitting near me cares or understands Quebecois curses.
