Triny Finlay : Two poems

folio : Marsh Blue Violet: Queer Poetry from New Brunswick

In Which We Are Matched, At Every Age

0.       Suckle for love and comfort,

suckle to stay alive. 

1.       Teeter:

our strong, tentative bodies reach

for a safe hand to steady us.

2.       Name everything as if

we are lexicographers; announce

our new language to the world,

loud and proud.

3.       Virtuoso conductors of small symphonies

—of wedding guests; of faux-ailing neighbours—
who stand out in every photo.

4.       Clutch our stuffie friends in troubled sleep: 

one worn bear, 

one wandering turtle. 

5.       Schooled and whip-smart,

extra-long eyelashes

shield wild eyes.

…

12.     The next Prime Ministers:

we’ll guide the tired, the poor,

the homeless, huddled masses,

tempest-tossed, toward us.

13.     Devour Gordon Korman novels

and noodles, every desire

laced with daydreams laced 
with despair laced with buttered bliss. 

14.     Outliers, secret crushes 
secretly crush us.

15.     Pained queer selves, confirmed: 
some quiet, some blaring on every stereo.

16.     Strive, strive, cut off

the rinds and pith
to get to our suprèmes.

…

20.     Recover from lovers who should have known better. 

…

25.     Hold onto everyone 

who is kind to us, and the certainty

of words struck against a page.

…

30.     Stretch ourselves like maple taffy, pulled

and pulled and prodded; hang on

to ice crystals and caprice.

…

35.     Suckle, teeter, name, conduct, clutch, shield, guide, devour, outlie, queer, strive, recover, hold,

stretch and pull and stretch and pull

and stretch and

soothe

and soothe

and soothe

and soothed.

…

Self-Portrait as Paper Clip

Bent out of joint
in order to hold everything together.
Won’t snap,

won’t dissolve in an acid bath.

But needs to be re-engineered, designed, built
for the shape of the new
manuscript it clutches, attached like an infant’s latch
to a firm, nourishing nipple.

Re-bent, refined, re-defined as nothing you’d ever find

at Staples, or bundled in bulk at Costco.

So striking against the printed page
you have to look again—

this trinket, so ready to be unfastened.

Triny Finlay is a pansexual poet who teaches English and Creative Writing at UNB in Fredericton. She is the author of You don’t want what I’ve got, Phobic, Splitting Off, and Histories Haunt Us. IG: @cast_iron_pan / trinyfinlay.com