Updating the Address Book

Poem name: Updating the Address Book Poet name: Colin Morton Poem: So many listings scratched out and replaced with newer ones. Here’s another out of date, we haven’t been in touch for years. When we met he lived in old town, two rooms of a red brick house leaning toward the St. Lawrence. He made me tea, and I wondered if it was safe amid hanging wires for speakers and an over-worked fan. One table housed kettle, toaster, laptop and printer. A bungee cord held the fridge door shut, and a girlfriend slept in the other room. Each place I’ve seen him since has been a replay of that scene. Disorder so thorough it must begin inside, grow soulward with age, unless saved by some great love. Or maybe I’m wrong, after all, you see what you expect to see. Maybe that first time in Montreal gave me a label to hang on him, and maybe the label has faded now. I may have read it wrong from the start, it has happened before. I wish I could see him now. End of poem. Credits: Copyright © Colin Morton Previously published at Bywords.ca (2020). Colin Morton has published a dozen books of poetry and twice received the Archibald Lampman Award. His other work includes fictions, reviews, and film. A guest on Algonquin land, he lives in Ottawa.