Creative
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Creative

[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/put-aside.mp3"][/audio]   Trickles of rain upon the canvas roof, Gentle rappings paired with the crackle of flames devouring poplar, The smell of rotting leaves covered in moisture creeps in from the outside. The thermos is set on a crumbling log Through the parted canvas, put aside for later. The reminder of...

[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/sing-o-sweet-winged-creature.mp3"][/audio]   sing! o sweet, winged creature of the endless sky beyond our darkened caverns. as we venture further into the oppressive earth; pickaxes and helms caked with decay, your sacred song sows our home back into the dirt:   tales of the azure wild, of gods that trail along ocean floors, yielding their...

[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/i-will-raise-my-Babygirl.mp3"][/audio]   As a child, I would cling to her arm. Both my hands wound tightly around her muscle; skin that sunk and sagged from gravity fifteen years too early. My dad looks at photos of her from their twenties and tells me, “This is how...

[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/redamancy.mp3"][/audio]   They marry on a Sunday evening, with no witnesses but the birds in the trees and the stars in the sky. The valley is quiet. A soft summer breeze ruffles the leaves of the willow tree the pair has found shelter under, the brook murmurs...

[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/year-of-the-rat.mp3"][/audio]   They burrow too deep within the earth to know nothing, says the rat man. He wears on him the appearance of the witch Rasputin, and it is witchcraft indeed that he performs. The rats had for a time forced me to divert from my...

  I have recorded a love blind as faith opaque and unwavering. Love – she simmers out of sight while devotees come to her doors. They’ll call her forth: knees purple, heads drawn to the floor reverently. Rooted in rows as the play of sacrifice drones on at the altar, an evisceration of...

  Tonight, a buzzing, tingling, familiar fear takes root in my abdomen and shivers up my spine. The moon outside is creamy and dapples the insides of my eyelids with twinkling white lights. She is woeful: that single, bright eye, harbour of the listless and witness of secrets, But...

There by the wind-wake and diesel fumes, peeling off the road I can chase a younger version of me to the playground   It’s dark; I can barely see the swings, but once I’m there I’m a ghost a dark sweatshirt on a pendulum, a metronome of flesh and bone...