Throat songs at midnight light
swing wavering sharp, land
soft as shrouds
rise again and again
eternal as rock echoes
eternal as ghost kisses
Mother kisses their foreheads,
and says again there’s a frog
in her old throat. Red as a frog
the nurse says on her ahh,
sends mother back again
to her ruined sleep.
You kissed the prince and
he bit a dog, turned it a dog
On the underside of expected
…………….everything raw
strength and weeping weave
…………….face who you are.


Debra Bennett writes poetry in continuing attempts to stay sane, with mixed results. Her formative years were spent in snow and sun (in that order) in Ontario and Michigan and then Ontario again. She is currently working on her first collection, and she is having fun putting together a website of her poems and photos, to which she welcomes visitors and comments, especially if you have some internet savvy advice. Debra’s work was previously shortlisted for the Walrus Poetry Prize.

Thank you for reading my poetry. -Debra Bennett