This is the Place Where our Cat Swims

by Jesse Eckerlin

Dreamt that my father wrote an autobiography of his homesteading
days called This is the Place Where our Cat Swims.

“awhhhh!” says i, licking my lips like a religious fanatic: “Scatter
flowers on the sidewalk! Mulch! for the coming season.”

He nods. The soil fertility expert bursts upon the scene and we know
that our worries be warranted. “The two volcanoes had hooves of fur”
says he.

we nod. dad eyes the axe. i shake my head in disapproval. “careful
jack . . . no wrong move you yeller cutthroat . . . ”

(i awake, sweating [bluish lacerations upon my shoulder blades no
less] and scramble over Meaghan in feverish haste chanting:
“notebookism” {and at this hour of the night it’s indecent!}. now I’ve
got them both, and just waiting for a pedestal from which to curse).

The chisels before the chunk of marble this time: backwards.

Jesse Eckerlin is an emerging poet from Cantley Qc currently living in Montreal and studying English literature at Concordia University. He is undertaking an apprenticeship in organic farming in PEI this summer and is currently interested in working in the interstices of Chan, ecopoetics, and contemporary Canadian vernacular. He has recently begun submitting work to various periodicals. He is open to comments, inquiries, and discussions regarding the written word and can be reached at

Back to Issue Seven: Spring 2010