HOW TO MAKE MONEY FROM HOME
Woken by the erratic siren;
coyote weaving the valley
chanting code: three yips, a howl,
pause. Looped. The moon floods
the frozen world, the coyote’s voice
stitches together our careful, private
distances. So close at one point
she seemed just under my window,
calling up. Calling on all the corroded
things I work to forget. Come morning
the ferries are fucked up again—engine
trouble. Someone’s hacked my email
telling all my contacts how they can make
money from home. At night the rain sounds
uncoordinated, falling in heavy and light pieces.
Author’s Bio
Tia McLennan’s poems have previously appeared in The Antigonish Review, CV2, Room, and Prairie Fire. She is working on her first poetry manuscript. Originally from Courtenay, B.C., she currently resides in St. John’s, NL.