It is a day of rest. And so I offer up a guest post (as dear Cynthia Jobin used to do) whose last name is “Knight”, today’s Just Jot It January prompt. This Knight is a poet and I found him by visiting the Poetry Foundation website and typing “Knight” as my search term.
Please welcome Mr. Etheridge Knight to Wuthering Bites. You can find more of his work at the Poetry Foundation and Poets.org. Enjoy his reading on the video link below.
Perfect morning on the Rideau Canal today – January 28, 2018
Every morning I make the bed. I give the comforter a good shake to restore its loft and then I sweep my hand across the steel blue sheet on both sides of the bed. It feels nice and smooth and when I’m done all the wrinkles are gone. (If only that was possible with my face.) I settle the comforter in place, punch the pillows – a bit of therapy before the start of the work day – drop them with a satisfying whump against the headboard and then add the decorative pillows. In this way I create order at the start of the day, fooling myself into thinking I am the mistress of my universe. Continue reading
Professor Margaret Miles-Cadman’s black academic gown created a soft breeze as she entered the class and addressed students in her Introduction to Old English class in a hypnotizing, sibilant voice. Her page-boy cut hair was grey with brown shadows and her skin as pale as the pages of our textbook, An Anglo-Saxon Primer written by Henry Sweet and first published in 1887. Prof. Miles-Cadman looked like she may have known Mr. Sweet. I took her class in 1977. Continue reading
Hard, fast ice on the Rideau Canal, January 25, 2018
I skated by myself today. By choice. I wobble when I skate and I’m slow and I’m afraid of falling. Plus, I don’t want to hold anyone back and I don’t want them to see my ancient skates which date way back to the early ’90’s. They were the first generation of leisure skates. ie. NOT figure skates. They have a thick liner and fasten with velcro. This means when its minus 20 my fingers survive the 20 seconds required to pat the velcro in place.
Have you ever tried to unlace skates, winkle your foot into the boot and then spent the next 15 minutes getting the buggers laced up while you lose sensation in your fingers and your glasses fog over because you’re breathing through your scarf and then your nose starts to drip and your eyes start to water from the cold? When you skate the condensation in your spectacles freezes and you’re blind. Velcro prevents this from happening.
There I was screewhooshing along on the best hard ice so far this season when I stopped to take a picture at Patterson Inlet. Two women were attempting a selfie and asked if I would take their picture.”Where you from?” I asked.
“Maine and Massachusetts. We’ve been friends for 40 years and we both turned 55 so we came here to celebrate.”
And off they skated with me wobbling behind them. As they slid away they said “We’re sorry for our President.”
I said “Me too. But I like our Prime Minister.”
“So do we.”
Wasn’t that nice?
Photo by Maine and Massachusets
Just Jot It January: Prediction
“I wish I had the guts to write my performance appraisal self-assessment honestly,” I said to my husband as he drove me to work.
“You have nothing to lose but your chains,” he said, quoting The Communist Manifesto.
“Yeah,” I replied. “And my pay cheque.”
Just Jot It January and One-Liner Wednesday
You come from a land of drama. On Vancouver Island gardens and drunks share a word: Lush. Its mountain peaks split the ski like axes and windstorms batter homes rougher than Viking invaders. Natural colour wails like a Saturday night, as unavoidable as a beach party in June.
Maybe because the last time you lived there you were an adolescent it will always be a land of Romantic Comedy, Shakespearean tragedy, The Greatest Show on Earth. Nothing, nothing, nothing in moderation. Like the farmer’s field across from your old high school known province-wide for its hallucinogenic magic mushrooms. Every fall pickers arrived and kids skipped school to harvest organically grown highs until one kid totaled his brain on a bad batch of mushrooms. Drama. Continue reading
Tired as the huddled masses she used to welcome, old lady Liberty suddenly realized the colossal irony of her gender. Like her sister, Justice. Continue reading
I’m taking today’s Just Jot It January prompt (silence) literally. Shhhh. I’m reading.
He gives my shoulder a squeeze and leaves after placing a demitasse of espresso on the bedside table. “Have a good ski,” I mumble from the depths of the down comforter.
Left alone, I imagine his long, strong legs gliding up snowy hills through evergreens so dark they look black and white birch trees in between appearing like his breath as he exhales in the cold. Continue reading
Warning – mature theme.
his body darkness and shock
therapy his unzipping zipper
the sound of an electric current
the top and bottom buttons of her Continue reading