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's first book of poetry is called Intruder. He lives in Toronto.

Join our community

Still reading? Show your support.

The Walrus features award-winning, independent, fact-checked journalism and online events at thewalrus.ca. Our content is available to all, but as a registered charity, we can’t do this work without contributions from readers like you.

For only $5 per month, you can support the work of The Walrus online. All supporters will receive a complimentary tote bag, gain access to exclusive updates, and join the community that powers the work we do.

Be part of The Walrus.
Monthly donations receive a charitable tax receipt.