Poetry Corner

the girls go to carnaval—1927
Ciera Couto

Borrowed shoes for the night, smooth leather on my heels
My sister and I, arm in arm 
Long robes barely touching the ground
The lights from town are brighter than ever and the moonlight reflects off our teeth
As we laugh beneath the sky, beside the sea, our smiles covered with other faces
—poorly painted masks to hide our deviance and mischief

We dance and trick and scheme 
These men we know now thinking we’re strangers
Father’s rules broken once again
Making space for ourselves where we aren’t wanted
Well, we want to be here, so why shouldn’t we be
I won’t spend my life letting our brothers have all the fun while we are stuck at home

I wish I could archive this
Have footage to give my great-granddaughter (if I ever meet her)
If she asks one day what my youth was like, I would show her
My sister and I, arm in arm


For You, a Woman
Serena Uribe

Oh, you who birth the bloom of spring
And you for whom the birds sing

You who sway as soft as the trees
And you whom which flowers please

You whose soft mounds draw mountains to their knees
And whose poetic curves make many cease

For you who breathe the breath of spring
Will topple the crown of the mightiest king

Oh, you who peace hugs at last
and from your arms, warmth is cast

You who dances with the wind
And you who shine when the light is dimmed

You who run through blades of grass
Smile through wounds from fine-edged glass

For you whom which love extends
Are a forcefield, a Woman, the Beginning, the End


A Woman’s Contribution
Nicole Judd

A Mother who is nurturing and caring,
A Sister who is fun and daring,
A Daughter who is smart and polite, 
And faithful and loving as a Wife.
Most importantly—A Person
A unique individual, WOMAN
A Person with her own thoughts and 
dreams and ambitions to follow.
This week, take the time to appreciate 
all of the Women around you. 
Use this time to recognize the 
sacrifices, Women give every day. 
And celebrate the wisdom, joy,
and love they bring into the world. 
Happy Women’s Day.


Gladiolus
Komalroop Kaler

You pour fertile soil into the clay pot and 
massage your hands as you crush tiny 
mounds of dirt between your fingers 
grandmother’s sword lilies 
spikes of funnel-shaped flower petals spring open 
white, yellow, rose, and lavender colours pop
against evergreen shrubs 
you reach for the spade shovel and remember 
how grandmother greased her hands with oil as she 
poured pools of liquid into the dry parts of your hair 
aches and wounds erase as she massages her 
fingers through your scalp 
waves of ancestral energy embrace you through her 
silent language of love 
you plough dirt and house the magical plant
sun’s light sharpens the blade-like leaves 

Associate Arts & Entertainment Editor (Volume 48) — Ciera Couto is a recent graduate from the University of Toronto, she earned her Bachelor of Arts in Drama and Dramaturgy, with minors in both Cinema and Women and Genders Studies. She has been writing creatively for years and has recently been published in different Canadian magazines and journals. Ciera spends her time reading, writing and listening to Taylor Swift on repeat. You can see her portfolio here, connect with her on LinkedIn, or contact her at cierac87@gmail.com.

Staff Writer (Volume 48) — Serena is a third year Art History and Professional Writing and Communications student at UTM. As a creative, she's always been fond of viewing and creating art, and writing poetry.  If she isn't typing away at her desk, you can find her at an art gallery or museum, crushing an exercise, dancing to her heart's content, or cheffing-it-up in the kitchen.

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