Stick is rugged and living rough, shredded bristly
along their full 3 ½” length. Pick is a dental professional
— sharp tail, tension-calibrated jaw intact
though their blue coat is faded.
The two of them, functional days over
dance slow toward each other, in playful placement
on glossy conglomerate. Pick is head
over heels in pinwheel spin, Stick is a little
standoffish
but interested, definitely interested in knowing
this colourful character.
Or maybe Stick is a beggar-maid, shabby but proud,
meeting Pick the swashbuckler, whose charm
is tarnished but cutlass still keen, bow still strung, taut.
But why assume the possibility of romance, posit
a meet-cute? Try not to overthink. No one wants
to be an it but don’t gender them. Imagine
them instead as adversaries — youthful peasant
striding to challenge the bully-blue overseer, or feisty
apprentice strapping on the master’s sharp sword
to fight the shaggy-barked tree beast.
♦
Frances Boyle is the author of two poetry books, most recently This White Nest (Quattro Books 2019), as well as a novella, Tower (Fish Gotta Swim Editions 2018). Her short story collection Seeking Shade will be published by The Porcupine’s Quill in April 2020. Originally from Regina, Frances has long been happily ensconced in Ottawa, where she helps edit Arc Poetry Magazine and writes reviews for the feminist literary journal Canthius. Visit her website at www.francesboyle.com.
♦♦♦
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