2nd Place - Oct 2012

Rose hip

Tart globe of well spent Rose reminds me how
we drive miles down Yonge Street to Thompson's
Homeopathic Supplies. Bring home pills, tinctures
to prevent and heal chronic and acute ailments. Bring
home double blessed Rose hip Vitamin C. Grandpa's
prophesy like a fairytale book, edges worn thin.

I hold back opinion, read block print promises
to clarify blood, make grey hair disappear, eat
a tumor, make her walk again. Farm boy faith he
feeds her handfuls of pills with breakfast, swallows
his brand of hope with a cup of Red Rose. Come to
think of it, when she dies he lives like mortality is

optional. Sees the family doctor first time at 92, all
wide-eyed and untouched and somewhat surprised
there might be parts wearing out by now. Late Fall
I fly in from B .C. see him bed-side on the ward, say
I'm pregnant with our third. He says he knows.

Tucked under sterile sheets, he moves his leg like
it's still there, keeps asking me when he can
go home.

~ Lesley-Anne Evans