masterpiece of bottom-feeding:
there you are, at last.
I peel off wet leaves
after a long winter, find your hooks
deep in my grass.
You are a festering periwig.
You are the cutest canker.
You devour living matter
to keep your skin pink. How gross.
But it’s what I like best about you.
How you hide and grow,
sup under all that snow.
How, once you’re done,
nothing springs from that scalp of soil.... Read more
Ghalib Islam, author of Fire in the Unnameable Country, discusses growing up in Toronto’s Jane and Finch area, the “breathlessness” of his writing, and the resistance he faced when he decided not to venture into a more secure career.