It's interesting...I feel like I haven't been watching myself lately. I'm a heap of scabs and bruises, all of which seem to have been acquired without my noticing. All injuries are kind of like that, and not just the bodily ones. The ones you feel in your heart and your gut, too. One minute you're flying down the street, and the next you're scraping yourself off the avenue.

Letters I Didn’t Write
By John Mackenzie
Harbour Publishing, 2008
Review by Stephanie Yip

chasing (butterflies)
by S. N. Jessa

i yank open the door,
swing this net flash-fast.
(light whispers off its disappearing wings)
in the air i displace,
dust rises, a hurricane's reincarnation.

i wait until i hear my family's
dreams calling
to catch dawn born to darkness.
(it whizzes through silence, like morning through night)
the sun creeps in so slowly,

The League of Canadian Poets, invites Canadian youth to participate in its Poetic Licence Contest. Download the PDF to see the guidelines. (17 KB)

Let’s use our imaginations a little bit for this one.