and years bent over a horizontally placed womb.
Practice, if you could. Land, worthy. A vanished garden. Secret. Simultaneous, as were. As if. As then. Though problems. Arise, inflection. Then. Across the Atlantic, finally. Across the St. Lawrence. Across the Ottawa, Rideau, Castor. Raisin. Every torso of water. Every limb. What, to complete. The moment, born and scathing. Wet, heart. A body of blood. You do not wish to. Quiet, and the lung’s deep. Disregarded. Airport, shuttle. Let me know. No logical objection, I can muster. Stand in plain sight.
Born in Ottawa, Canada’s glorious capital city, rob mclennan currently lives in Ottawa, where he is home full-time with the two wee girls he shares with Christine McNair. His most recent titles include On Beauty: stories (University of Alberta Press, 2024), the poetry collections Snow day (Spuyten Duyvil, 2025) and the book of sentences (University of Calgary Press, 2025).