SurVision Magazine
An international online magazine
that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
Issue Eleven
HILARY CLARK
04/28/20
Pinched, kneaded, buttered, puffed, shaken, salted, feathered. Cloud
puffs like popcorn, like monkey brains. And the least of the
chickadees looked upon me, and said: "Disgraceful, shaking out your
intimates and showing them again." A wild translation will punish
me. I'll lie down as Ophelia with amaranth and love's everlasting. My
emblem the grape hyacinth (muscari) – like the bluebell but not so
lyrical.
Hilary Clark is from Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. Until her
retirement in 2015, she was professor of English at the University of
Saskatchewan, Saskatoon, SK. She has published three books of
poetry, the latest titled The Dwelling of Weather (Brick Books, 2003).
With Canadian poet Steven Ross Smith, she co-authored a chapbook
entitled Pliny's Knickers (JackPine Press, 2005). "04/28/20" is an
excerpt from a longer sequence titled "My Muted Year."
