Poem: Headline

Headline (c. 2002)

Through the slick-slack wipers,
I see the transport ahead of me

But what passes before my eyes
Is not my life, but my
And what does it say, this epitaph
By which I will be known
To the City of
Toronto (if only for a day)?

Singer, lover of cats?
Student, Priestess, Woman of Spirit who
Rode a mean mountain bike even though (maybe because) it terrified her,
And who once carried a canoe seven kilometers
To the next checkpoint because she would be damned before she would

It calls me:
30-year old
Mother of One.


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