The Gap

Eddy Yanofsky
From:   Blues & True Concussions : Six New Toronto Poets. Anansi, 1996.

What are doors for anyway
if not for soiled bed comforters
piled in heaps?

The quilted comforter I almost kicked
lay in front of the green doors
that opened for an evangelical event
at Varsity Stadium last summer.

After it rained, snow appeared;
one fat flake after another,
so slowly
I could have used them
for batting practise.

I wanted to kick anything in my way.
Even the Stadium looked like an overripe sternum
to punch the lights out of.
There were legs under the comforter,
just shin bones attached to
a body without gender,
suede Wallabees nobody wears anymore.

Poem 1 | Poem 2 | Poem 3 | Poem 4 | Poem 5 | Poem 6

Eddy Yanofsky's works copyright © to the author.