Poetry Pause: Joanne Epp — Vista

Poet name: Joanne Epp Poem title: Vista Poem: An evening walk on unfamiliar ground— the surprise of a gravel path, the riddle of a blank wall that we follow to its answer along a line of elms, rounding a corner into sun. Here at a high wire fence the world drops away before us. Concrete rumbles beneath our shoes. Humped metallic roofs of subway trains, done with rush hour on the Bloor-Danforth line, slide out from under us, navigate switches and branching tracks in Greenwood Yard. The far end's a forever away. Broad-backed cars loom large beneath us and recede, shrink to shining toys, to silver pins, then molecules flowing vein to vein toward farthest capillaries. With hands clutching chain-links, we don't find much to say, only those rounded syllables that always announce the new. Not just our son, enchanted by all things on rails, but we stand awed by all this magnitude and muchness, lustre of steel linked and stretched to the vanishing point, the infinitude of a line. End of poem. Credits: Copyright © Joanne Epp Originally appeared in Prairie Fire Vol. 36 no. 1 (Spring 2015) Joanne Epp's poetry has appeared most recently in Prairie Fire, The New Quarterly, and Juniper, and won third place in the 2018 Banff Centre Bliss Carman Poetry Award Contest. She has published one full-length collection of poems, Eigenheim (Turnstone Press, 2015), and has a second forthcoming in 2021. She lives in Winnipeg.