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Two Poems by Helen Picard

Rusty Rood

From the second floor window,
the red roof of the house next door reflected
A strange, rusty glow at twilight.
In the summer, bugs would be caught in the purgatory Between screen and glass.
Somehow suspended on the screen in death,
they hung with their wings horizontal,
spindly legs vertical, as if their own cross.
In this rusty light,
through the sad bedtime eyes of a child,
I saw them as nails
in the hands, feet, death of day.


Cockroach Crickets

I love you long, I love you far
my crickets in the wall

Maybe you’re just cockroaches
maybe you’re not real at all
but every night I listen to your humming, thrumming, enthralled
and love you far and just the same
my crickets in the wall


About the author:

Helen Picard is a writer and poet from Toronto, Canada. She is currently studying history at Trinity College, the University of Toronto. Helen hopes to pick up her grandfather’s torch by reviving his publishing company, PD Meany Publishers online.


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