Remember
the three
little pigs
how they
smoked
up—the
chimneys
and rafters,
how they
sang like
moths?
Wallpaper’s
peeling
again—
but it’s
any wonder,
given
it’s halfw
ay between the
sill and the frame,
halfway between
light and dusk.
And then,
some
days
are just
for red sweaters,
peach-flavoured
candy, and yellow
stitches like
daffodils.
Simon Turner’s poetry has been published in places, most recently by The Fiddlehead and flo. Simon lives in Ottawa with a potato of a cat, and has had four plays staged in Peterborough/Nogojiwanong, either at or in collaboration with The Theatre On King.
