Transfusion

I walk most days before dinner now that the air is finally calm and clear, and each time the horizon admits more of the visible world. The windowsills are lined …

Illustration by Jason Logan
Illustration by Jason Logan

I walk most days before dinner now
that the air is finally calm and clear,
and each time the horizon admits more
of the visible world. The windowsills

are lined with potted herbs. Fleets of rental
toilets are converging on the park, where
blue squills bloom like dye in water. Welcome
to the party, an ache in my head I could
crawl up into, abetted by spring rot.

Curious provisional sprouts betray
the dreaded taproot, but I’ll clear the yard
for pole beans and baby beets, keen
as the Sun-Maid girl, O Spring, if you
promise me more light and good clean blood.

This appeared in the March 2017 issue.

Bardia Sinaee
Bardia Sinaee (@unclePoetry) is the assistant editor at the Literary Review of Canada.

Enjoy What You’re Reading?

Fact-based journalism is our passion and your right.

We feature Canadian voices and expertise on stories and events with a global impact, from the mainstreaming of cannabis to the fallout of the SNC-Lavalin affair to Canada's response to COVID-19, and we firmly believe that this reporting can change the world around us.

We’re asking readers like you to support The Walrus so we can continue to lead the Canadian conversation.
Every contribution makes a difference.
Please support The Walrus from as little as $2.
Donations of $20 or more will receive a charitable tax receipt.