Thursday, April 18, 2013

Pearl Pirie


I opened the trunk and saw
that against my wishes you are
again keeping river trout
in the basement of our car.

the basin of the underbody tank
thinly swayed with dorsal fins.
towards the light and shallows
of the carpet one trout was stiff.

I thought it was dead. its eyes
were closed. when I lifted it back
to the water, it slowly reanimated,
blinked, then shifted its peduncle.

with a caterpillar's grace it came,
pectoral fins as elbows sauntering
towards me. then we saw on the
thick liquorice lip of the trunk

the bat examining us. no, it was
a Curl-Crested Manucode Bird
of Paradise, his long trachea fluting.
he began to puff his mating hop.

the trout's eyes widened, pulling
back bewildered, commando-crawling
backwards towards seats, windshield,
the sanctity of the all-trout-world.

Pearl Pirie has coordinated the Tree Seed Workshop Series in Ottawa since 2009. been shed bore (Chaudiere, 2010) and Thirsts (Snare, 2011) for completists are complemented by chapbooks published by Corrupt Press, AngelHouse Press, above/ground, and obvious epiphanies press. She runs phafours micropress, which is currently looking for squirrelly poems, in one sense or another. Visit

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