Her verses snap—like the Jets
in their dancers’ crouch against
the Sharks, like a queen who’s seen

the deathliest of drops
on the stage or on the stage
herself has just bent,

like a toddler’s buttons pressed
or pulled, like an ice-stiff branch
in ninety-eight when we camped

in front of the fireplace 
and mom and dad weren’t scared 
at all, like the minds of Eric

and Dylan the first of many,
like my neck when I fell from the wall
so now my hands can’t,

like comebacks come too late,
like how kids chat these days,
like what we used to say

after oh, like the crowd claps
at an open-mic night when they hear
some real snappy verse–

you know?
​​
Kyle Gervais teaches Classical Studies at the University of Western Ontario in London, where he lives in a nicely accessible house with his husband and two cats. He has poems published or forthcoming in Arion, Canadian Literature, Defenestration, Eunoia Review, Litbreak Magazine, Literary Imagination, New Verse News, PRISM International, and Triggerfish Critical Review. His book of poems and sketches, You and I, will be released in June.
image: bruno emmanuelle via unsplash