incognito 

the blank glaring stare of white parched snowand 

an exclamation point, a sharp needle in your eye :

the injection of a medicinal reality

given by an invisible old man, a nurse,

bent over his work, just a clock

with no extra time

for frivolities this old man

of many ceaseless bendings,

his wave crashing on the beach

sérénades, as in a rock concert in Auckland, 

for the waters’ breaking, the drumming of the floor

by splashes from your birth 

He will turn into a ball of dissecated fire

and burn your chest

with his rings of medical bitter edges;

you are the tree

After the Colorado shooting

  If on a winter's night a traveler lost his suede boots in the polished snow He would have to continue his cold path on the back of a grown, bearded wild moose and go Not too happy with this state of settled affairs, the animal surely would gape, would stare into the traveler’s blue eyes, in the human head and demand , as ransom, all his books and a collection of cans of beans, as nights in the woods can get quite dark and hunger imbues an air of boredom to the heavy moon’s mean shade of light. All for the loss of suede boots this traveler would encounter the bestial night and ride across the Rockies Range in a winter’s cloudy edge The back of the moose caught in his tracks and packed to the brim with beans and pork in clicking tin cans: For sure he would trade these with hungry coyotes to the rabbits’ delight. A hunter, catching the off guard traveler, with his gun on his arm, aims at the moose: misses his target by an inch of flesh Wild ducks fly from the swampy icy pond honoring the fallen traveler’s night: He was shot straight in the legs so bare foot in the snow, that even his French mother would take pity on this bullet wound opened in the night, a blink at a nursing gloom. Poor bastard winter night’s traveler. All for the loss of suede boots on a winter’s night not so long ago the blood, violet spilled hue is bawling, dripping at the foot of the cousin moose Deer, related to the caribou and I and you.

Bio: Anouk  is a French Montrealer, exiled in Ontario (Toronto), and who writes in  English since she already teaches French for a living.