A Creative Way Out of Work
A creative workplace for Valerie Poulin.

Lost

September 5th 2010 in Poetry

Eleven years in the making, his mistress
grabs the night. Eyes down, she holds out

a piece of meat cooked; he eats
from her fingers. Ceramic plates, fractured

in the trash bin, breakfast eaten in a hall closet.
She pushes his voice under water, listening

with an unforgiving shrug, blinks her way
through dinner parties. Each night she falls asleep

to the music of her ancestors, skin against bone.
She permits him to sleep with her, in case she

dies in the night. She turns over, her legs curled
under a once strong belly. In the space between,

there lay everything she’d lost.


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Like many creative writing hobbyists, too often I have to put personal projects on hold in favour of paid work. For me, paid work means professional writing assignments.

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