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    Standing in the Flock of Connections
    Standing in the Flock of Connections
    Standing in the Flock of Connections
    Ebook68 pages24 minutes

    Standing in the Flock of Connections

    By Heather Cadsby

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    About this ebook

    By turns funny, frank, mysterious, and heartbreaking, Standing in the Flock of Connections, Heather Cadsby’s fifth collection of poetry, is one hundred proof associative thought. These poems testify to the human mind’s capacity to “do”—taking into account all of the performative, causal, athletic, and sexual connotations of that verb. Many of them come in on an overheard conversation or monologue—mid-fight, mid-stride—and the absent details and specifics often function to open up a space for things to become other things, for the flock of connections to swarm.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBrick Books
    Release dateApr 1, 2018
    ISBN9781771314800
    Standing in the Flock of Connections
    Author

    Heather Cadsby

    Heather Cadsby was born in Belleville, Ontario and moved to Toronto at a young age. She obtained a BA degree from McMaster University and taught elementary school for a number of years. In the 1980s she helped organize poetry readings at the Axle-Tree Coffee House in Toronto. A co-founder of the poetry press Wolsak and Wynn, she has recently served as a director of the Art Bar Poetry Series.

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      Book preview

      Standing in the Flock of Connections - Heather Cadsby

      Author

      Our shadows were moving ahead of us

      Who is butterfly?

      I’ve never clasped my name

      the way a monarch does.

      Or been named after.

      This insect with no backbone

      resembles me in other ways.

      I have laid four hundred eggs in the past.

      Two fertilized.

      I was smaller than my mate,

      found glory in the morning

      with my many body parts

      and sore shoulders.

      I was jealous of wings

      that flew her into my house

      to steal my milk (myth #1).

      (She tastes bad to some.)

      Seeing her moving in a gang

      meant imminent war (myth #2).

      In the Middle Ages, people didn’t fly.

      At stages of belly stretch

      I said she sheds so easily.

      Layers discarded. I’m fussing.

      We all have our little commotions,

      finding a bite to eat,

      a straw for drinking.

      Waxmakers and masons

      They do it all, these women

      who’ve been nurses and fanners.

      In divisions of labour, they’ve done every job,

      are perfectly suited to votes and decisions.

      They have no quarrel with the few gorgeous men

      who can’t take the winters here.

      They are soon dead and left

      in a pile at the door.

      No hour is wasted. Each gesture heroic.

      A figure-eight skater describes a nectar source

      or a possible new home

      if the din gets too much.

      Then it’s the old royal lady who leaves

      with some waiters and maids.

      A young beauty inherits the castle

      and the

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