the poetry that matters

Kerrie Alexandra McNair

Kerrie Alexandra McNair grew up in Toronto and is living in London, ON currently as a Creative Writing student at The University of Western Ontario. She works as a reader for The Rusty Toque and her work has appeared in The Boiler Journal. 



Be polite to them all, they know you wear contacts.

Naked holographs conscious of how we do matter.

Low, they call us by our middle names

standing in Postmaster uniforms;

opal omniscience in their one good eye

populating the block in multiples of dogs.

Having no originality, we walk them to the curb

with the garbage when the sun goes down.


It’s nice to see you 

From which lobe, it doesn’t matter does

it?s dense in here.

Smog and boots kicking around

outside in the raining over and over

again I sit here saying don’t say it.

Don’t say it. See it’s taking off

all my stratums like a adult,

with holes and burns and denim

rough stucco exterior

versions of how and what it might be like

’cause you were there when I asked.

Who knows about what I think I do?


Shoulders back

Eat meat and swallow –

don’t worry we trimmed

the fat and the veins are dry.

When you came in, 

did you shut the curtain?

There’s hair gel and egg yolk

on the counter if you like.

We all drink our tea straight

and wear jackets for the cause.



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                                                                                                                            April 21, 2013