TVINE DONABEDIAN

Title: Heritage out of water

Down The Hill
I am Evil-
Eye-Level with
Some train station
God.
They loom. (I don’t).
Or I can’t, but
The Blue, at least,
Glares.

Second-To-Last Cart
Here is home to
Living martyrs.
I can’t believe
It’s not sacrifice!
Day three: oceans.
Day seven: salt,
For all that wet
In your Genesis

Footnote: How can you Name
A man-made lake
After a fish?
It cannot live there.

I Miss The Stop When
You refuse to
Live in a house
You did not bleed
To make into home.
To suffer is
To have honor,
Is a young shell
For an ancient corpse.

Some Guy Is In My Way
Rotten fish
Does not wait
For Friday
It dies in
Shallow hands
And again
Under blunt,
Sated teeth
And again
With a Name
Barely damp,
Because it
Never rains hard
Enough in this
Stupid fucking
City.

Tvine Donabedian is a queer Canadian-Armenian writer from Montreal, currently completing a graduate degree in Vancouver. Her aim is to navigate the vastness of identity through musings on sexuality and diasporic struggle. She has words in Arc Poetry magazine and Graphite publications. Twitter @tvinedonabedian

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