Two Poems

 by Caitlin Thomson


I have laughed, looking at the San Juans, remembering the dark
stories one shares when phone lines are down,
the mirrors draped in black.

The way one confession draws out another,
beyond what any priest could stand, brought
into the light of comfortable chairs.

Too many important funerals have been missed
or never held. Loss has formed a crematorium,
all those drawers of spectacles, of green pens,

bow ties, ancestral rings, a litany of absence.
But still there are ferries we ride on,
soft serve in hand, watching for whales.


San Andreas

The grief that split the car in half
has led us to the sidewalk spewing
angry threats at neighbors as
if it was their fault.

The block turns out to watch
fast hands, thrusting fingers pointed
out. Blame was in the tweeting
thrush, the stray cat.

We tug at air, as if to change this
space, reform it into something
we can live without.

Read The Story Behind “Preoccupation” by Caitlin Thomson on our blog.

About Caitlin Thomson

Caitlin Elizabeth Thomson is a Canadian who married an American. She resides in rural Washington state. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous places, including The Literary Review of Canada, The LinerEDGE, Echolocation, and the anthology Killer Verse. Her second chapbook Incident Reports is forthcoming in 2014 from Hyacinth Girl Press.

Caitlin Thomson

Caitlin Thomson is online at