Two Poems by Noah Cain
These poems were first published in Teacher Voice
spring recess
snow melts
storm names puddles after northern lakes
canthook, badwater, nipigon
pretends she’s fishing
pretends she’s a fish
change of clothes
plastic bagged in the office
mister s watches
storm long out the window
dictionary open, corrective
grip pencil in hand—allowed
outside once the definition
of “consequences” is written
in full
the bell rings
bring it here
chaos covers the foolscap
scribbled tornados, bolts
of lightning, flames
he crumples the paper
why?
storm looks at her feet
no—I want you to tell me why
red eye
his right hand
a skin and blood satellite image
of northwestern ontario
in a highwater
year
two a.m.
eats leftovers
the metallic scrub
of mom cleaning up
steel wool on still warm
cast iron
he echoes alcohol and brut
wobbles, slides his plate
on the counter
kisses her cheek
as he snores on the floral couch
she offers him
a yellow ice cream pail
receives an empty bag
of milk, a thawing pork chop
he had been holding
to his eye—
she’ll fix it for him
when he wakes up
with some eggs
rye toast unbuttered
a glass of equal parts
beer and tomato juice
the way his father took it
Noah Cain teaches high school English, coaches hockey, and writes in Winnipeg. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in a variety of publications including CV2, Prairie Fire, and Glass: A Journal of Poetry.