Monday, December 20, 2010

To Mum

I wanted to let you
know why there's no poem
to you -
it's because words
will never be enough;
so, for once,
let me get away with
not trying.

Copyright Catherine Young, 2010.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Leonard

Mr. Cohen,
Your Book of Longing makes
me tear my hair from
its roots, gnash my
vampire teeth with fueled
frustration, and feel the
pressure of a knuckled hand
tunneling into my gut.
Oh, this jealousy is a
determined affliction,
so I quietly request
a reprieve from your lines.
They are sheer beauty.

Copyright Catherine Young, 2010.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

To my cousin Derek

I wanted to let you know
about how your dad taught me
to fly fish, when I had but
twelve years to my name
and didn't appreciate the art
behind our motions:
the subtlety of the wrist,
the grace of the arm,
the precision of the cast,
and the patience of the mind.
But I did love eating
Aldomak Snowballs
and hearing his stories,
wondering which were true
and which fictitious.
Two trout came home by
the end of my line
the first night, and we
had forged some bond
and grown more in love with
each other than ever before.

I wanted to let you know
about how your dad taught me
to fly fish,
but you are his mirror image
with his eyes looking back at me,
so it seems redundant to speak
of memories I feel you
have already experienced.

Copyright, Catherine Young, 2010