Published September 1, 2022
by Shannon Lodoen
(Langley, British Columbia, Canada)
I sit on the skytrain, try not to look
At anything beyond the small borders
Of my notebook, clenched in trembling hands.
The shrilling shree of metal on metal
As we tear around above ground corners
Vibrates through my teeth, my overworked jaw.
I'm still not used to the birds' eye view here
On this metal hulk, soaring, unlikely,
Across the evening Vancouver skyline.
Check to make sure I haven't missed my stop.
No, not yet. More time still to sit and sweat.
If I can't enjoy the view, why not write?
At least putting my misery in words
Helps pass the time 'til – at last – it is done.
Shannon Lodoen is an English doctoral student at the University of Waterloo, where her dissertation explores the relationship between digital technology and identity formation. She currently lives in Langley, BC, with her partner and one hyper-affectionate cat. When she is not working on her academic research, Shannon enjoys reading and writing poetry, hiking, trips to the beach, drawing, and working on her novel manuscript.
This poem is included in Poetry World #4, published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Vancouver Poetry Magazine:
Ten Mile Point
by Molly Isabel Pearce
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