Every morning I wake at dawn and watch the blue light seep
through cracks and blinds, like water all around.
It trickles through sockets, into my mouth,
my throat, until I am filled with light and can see
the cage of bones, damp heart,
dark venous blood at wrist and breast as it scatters
through cross-hatched transparent skin.
I am clear in this tidal light.
And then it goes, leaving ligaments and thews strewn
like dried grasses. Butterflied lungs.
A residue of salt in the scraped hollows.
Copyright © Kim Trainor. Originally published in Ledi (Book*hug, 2018).
Kim Trainor‘s first collection, Karyotype, was published by Brick Books in 2015. Ledi appeared with Book*hug in 2018. Her poetry has won the Gustafson Prize, the Great Blue Heron prize, and the Malahat Review Long Poem Prize, and has appeared in the 2013 Global Poetry Anthology and The Best Canadian Poetry in English 2014. She lives in Vancouver.