Katherine Leyton

Religion

Out walking
and I have the sudden desire to pass the church
at the bottom of the hill. I’m not religious—
it reminds me of Europe, which has beauty.
In Rome, the men looking
made me want to pound my face on the pavement.
I gave private tours to Americans. Once,
I took a married couple through the Vatican museums
and at the end the man was surprised to be in the Sistine Chapel.
I thought it was in Paris, he whispered.
The church at the bottom of the hill has dozens of steps
up to heavy doors that are usually locked.
For a year I went into every church I saw in Rome,
sat in the quiet. I had time then.
In Iqaluit, the cathedral has my son’s name
and is as round as the moon. This afternoon,
my son told me that there must be something after death,
maybe not these heavens, he said, but something,
because nothing does not exist. Years ago,
he almost died in a public fashion. A zealot
sent me a letter asking me to pray. I was already on my knees.

 

Winter

The past devours the sky,
which is a sheet of ice
which is night moving in.

Orion’s belt sparkles, his glitz
intrusive.

I am the age my mother was when I idolized her.

When my mother was young,
she was in a commercial for the blue
ice that forms on our darkest December nights.
She wore polyester, called out to the seed of me.

I answered, heart-struck,
the past in front of me.

 

Married, with Children

I loved you
but then we had children together,
small tyrants who adore me.

I keep watch over the faults
they accept unconditionally,
the ones that unsettle you.
Eventually, they’ll learn better.

Our third child was born just weeks ago, among the dead leaves.
Each child a gash in my body, I’m better now,
I’m older, full of muscle and power.
I’ve been training for this one like a marathon. My throat is dry.

With babies, comes thirst, comes misery, comes joy, comes deprivation of every sort,
comes loneliness. If only I could move powerfully with my babies, hold court.

Even after babies, I want.

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Katherine Leyton is the author of the award-winning poetry collection All the Gold Hurts My Mouth, and Motherlike, a book of creative nonfiction about motherhood. Born and raised in Toronto, she currently lives in Ottawa.