I know what you are thinking, and you are not far off. Although, in my defence I knew that a simple stretching this way, that way, of her back would save a trip to the chiropractor. Still, that day when I saw her, arriving to the house with the mask of death on her face, it was hard not to fall toenail to gray matter for her. She didn’t look at all like Helena (her mother (who was supposed to launch ships, but never did) (Also, she was probably 15 years older than me, but I liked that. I was tired of itinerant 20 year-old yoga do-goodie hoodies, life coaches, personal trainers with question marks (but we could do this bracket thing forever) So, after tasting the barely passable fish tacos at the funeral and scarfing down as much alcohol as I could socially get away with, I made a move. Now that I think of it, it was a huge move. Quite impressive, but this was her mother’s funeral so perhaps…well, let’s just say the questionable questions have a way of diminishing in the wake of love or whatever we might call it now, that is everything to anyone/thing/crustacean with a brain, at a wake.


Diana Adams is an Edmonton, Alberta–based writer with work published in a variety of journals and anthologies. Her third book of poetry, Hello Ice was published by BlazeVOX Books. BlazeVOX also published her novella To The River. Diana has three poems in Best American Experimental Writing 2016. Finishing Line Press published Lights on Way out, 2017.

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