by Brian Campbell

Rugs and strings and elastics, And that comfortable chair. The warmth of a lap, The streams of voices there.

That comfortable chair. The Giant sitting there. And gentle streams of voices— Whispers from telephone.

Giant sitting there. Then moving from room to room. Following Her through archways, From light to dark to doom.

Moving from room to room. Lying on sunlit sill. Gazing through a glassway At flitting wings in the tree.

Lying on sunlit sill. Warmth, a buzzing fly. Flitting past of wings; A crouch, a lunge, a cry.

Warmth, buzzing fly. Pellets pummel the bowl. Crouch, lunge, munch; Lapping up of waters.

Pellets pummel the bowl. Crunching the pellets down. Lapping up of waters. One long leap to the sill.

Sill, table, chair. The Giant sitting there. Curl on her warm lap, Thrum my purring purl.

Brian Campbell is the author of Guatemala and Other Poems (Window Press, Toronto, 1994). His poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in the Antigonish Review, the New Quarterly, Prairie Fire, the Saranac Review, Contemporary Verse 2, nth position, and Umbrella. This is the second time he has appeared in carte blanche; he is also featured in Issue 6. Undressing the Night, his translation of selected poems of the Nicaraguan-Canadian poet Francisco Santos, was recently published by Editorial Lunes, Costa Rica. He lives and teaches in Montreal.