“Composting and Rapprochement” by Kelsey Andrews
Poetry Pause is the League of Canadian Poets’ daily poetry dispatch. Read “Composting and Rapprochement” by Kelsey Andrews.
Composting and Rapprochement
By Kelsey Andrews
I trudge up the driveway, handle of a rolling
garbage can in each hand. Smell of night wind
garbage, the memory of blossoms
when I pass the hulking lilac.
The compost bin on the right tilts on
its wheels, bumping my hip. Inside
the soft flesh of spotted pumpkin
onion skin, green sludge of basil found
too late in the crisper drawer.
If you’re going to leave something behind
it helps to cut and run
never think of it again.
My father, growing soft now in my memory
or I have become more kind to him.
We were crisp as lettuce spines
now we brown toward each other
slough what once we knew for sure.
Wet and darkness bring more scope.
If you’re going to leave something behind,
sometimes, bury it.
Bury you both
and see what grows.
Copyright © Jaime Forsythe
Jaime Forsythe is the author of the poetry collections I Heard Something (Anvil Press) and Sympathy Loophole (Mansfield Press). A third collection is forthcoming in 2026 with Wolsak & Wynn. Her poetry and fiction have recently appeared, or are forthcoming, in EVENT, The Ampersand Review, Grain, and The Malahat Review. She lives in Halifax/Kjipuktuk.
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