Owain Nicholson is a poet and novelist from the Great Canadian Prairies and the western wend of the Rocky Mountains. His writing digs unforgivingly into the make of our people and our histories, the stories we live and, therefore, live by. Educated at the University of Victoria, Nicholson’s first book of poetry will be released in autumn 2016 from Nightwood Editions. He will shortly commence a Master of Fine Arts from the University of Guelph, Toronto.
I remember our lying in the dark, some slow divestment skinning
into morning, and thunderstorms on the horizons.
Your hand recorded on my breast some weak distress
signalling the tide of our waking: slate-ghost waves lapping
against the skin that maps our borders, beckoning swimmers into the rip.
After drowning, this devastating tabloid: there is no glory —
and you fell me back into brutal slumber, as if to say:
you may only leave
— and none are allowed reparation.