Poetry

The Toronto Woman

Train wind blows her curls,
They sweep across her face
She’s clothed in confidence
Her strides carried with grace

Courageous in the discomfort
Of matters nasty and shocking
She’ll speak her truth
As if no one,

Poetry

Again; to fall in love.

He told me “I want you
to fall in love; again.”
I’m fine.
It’s him,
Don’t point the finger at
me.

My anger crescendos;
The wave builds up.
At the accusation,