Toads in Tandem: Creature Comforts

Image copyrighted Isadora Gruye Photography

Greetings Toads,

Kim and Izy are here to unleash our Toads in Tandem piece for 2017.  We can’t wait for you to read it. But first, a few words of introduction.

Kim says - The only signs I was aware of, regarding distance in miles and culture between Izy and me, were one or two phrases or spellings. Not knowing much about her, I decided to look up Izy on the Internet and was impressed by her poetic activity, which was somewhat daunting. However, once we got going, it was more like working with a version of myself in a different universe and we riffed on each others’ ideas and fragments with ease.

Izy says - I was so excited when Kim was announced as my toad in Tandem. I  loved the idea of working with a poet whose style is different than my own. Where I tend to be stark and obscure, Kim is color and concrete. When I want to burn the page down, Kim brings beautiful form and word architecture. I gotta say, I was so impressed with how fearless Kim is in her writing.Thanks so much for the tango, Kim!!!!

Toads in Tandem bonus: we’ve included audio files of each of us reading the poem in full. If you have a few moments, you can listen to how each of us chose into interpret and read each line a little differently! Also....our accents!!!!

Creature Comforts

Your lover drapes me on your shoulders,

sunlight strays through crinkled linen,

tickles your unblemished skin.

I protect your sensitivity,

remind you of marmalade

and flyover territory:

fat ants marching on clothes lines

hung tight between windows uncleaned

and chipped by gossip houndstooth.

I am imbued with pepper scent of grass cut

before the heat,

before the thick of summer

leaned over the typewriter

to ash its cigar across the whole of July.

You had me on loan

the day autumn mist rolled in,

shrouded everything,

left cold droplets in your hair

and smeared its sheen on bare skin.

Now you touch my woollen fibres

to your nose, inhale the scent

and I’m matted with tears.

There is a silence so quiet,

it cuts sharply.

The cables are knit so tightly

breathing becomes labored

in the lemon dusk.

Have the signals got crossed?

Is there no one poised and ready

to decipher these dashes and pauses?

Tomorrow, newspaper ink will be thin

and wash away in street puddles.

And here, the coffee stains on my cuff

will sing boldly on their own.

Winter rattles dust

from window panes,

and you still bring me to bed,

despite my jersey stretched nine years thin

and twisted torn at the hem.

The flat scent of last night’s fire

falls on cold sheets,

falls on your cold, freckled knees.

You sweat through the night,

happily cocooned

in your empty bed,

dreaming of a lover’s gift

infused with perfume, the bottle lit

by flames and fairy lights.

Faces merge in shadow,

bask in afterglow,

buffeted by music -

an old long-playing record

by a favourite band

crackles on the deck.

When the spring breeze coaxes

leaves to bud and rain

lifts worms to the sidewalk

to bake on the concrete,

you pull me over your feet.

You stomp proudly through mud

and dropped blossoms,

each step a drum beat

louder than you ever imagined.

Your toes curl and flex against the solidity

of our rubber-soled security,

a comfortable pairing against puddles

and slippery situations –

galoshes for all seasons.