Literary Orphans

I Am Your City and Two Poems
by David Groulx


I Am Your City

I am your city

whose light you watch

from a distance

from a dark county

I whose sirens you listen for

from a quiet place

I whose heat you feel

from the cool countryside

come to me woman

my urban lust calls


my painted ladies wait

my drunken sidewalk


bring your simple bucolic

charm to me

I am your city

Come, this body calls

you out of the country

Come taste me

the sweat of my shaven brow

rising out of the land

like stiff cock

follow your flesh

I await

I arise before dawn

Sinners love me

and you will too

stay past dusk


drunk on the sunrise

stay past your bedtime

bring your golden calves

from your pasture

my ravenous heart

gathers a porcine


await my darling

I call my love

you will come

my dear

you will arrive

my love

my love you will suffer


O Typekey Divider


You Leaving with the Circus

You’ve packed all your feet and all

your eyeballs

the smell of your nose

and the sound of your ears

now you’ve put away your

looks and your stares


Took your woke and worn

you’ve packed away your pretty things

and your ugly things

you’ve put away your tooth and your tongue

your dead and wounded

you’ve put away

with all you remember

and forgot

you’re taking your escapades

and affairs



Your taking your walk and your run

your come and your came

your fingers and your hands

storing away your laughter and your crying

your snoring and your sighing

gathering your riches and your rags

your elbows and your knees

your lips and your tongue

your fish and your frogs

folding you heartaches

and joy

you put away


Your pumpkins and you jack-o-lanterns

your poppies and jack rabbits

taking your stairs

your ups and your downs

your smiles and your frowns

packing up your tent

and your elephant

the circus

is over

the clown

you leave



O Typekey Divider


In These Small Moments

I have nothing for you except flesh

I light the fire

your red mouth heavy

with chances

We forget our lives



In these small moments



Our words are meaningless



like tentacles





O Typekey Divider

David Groulx was raised in the Northern Ontario mining community of Elliot Lake. He is proud of his Aboriginal roots – his mother is Ojibwe Indian and his father French Canadian.

David’s poetry has appeared in over a 150 publications. His latest book, Imagine Mercy was  published by BookLand Press


O Typekey Divider

–Art by Winoka Begay

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