“Blue Vase” woodcut by Ray Hudson
MONTE SCHOOLEY
Mark of Cain
My great grandmother
shouts.
‘Is that you in my garden,
my pea patch?’
She toils, calls to me,
taunts me
in my misadventures,
The reins are taut,
the headland marked
in this fenced, gateless garden.
Blessings
Did you see the sprouts burst from the bulb,
feel the tremors when the roots reached out,
hear them suck moisture from the ground
and murmur as they toiled
to penetrate the warming soil?
Did you see the leaves emerge from slender stems
watch the bud form so beauty might be born,
wonder at the hidden store of nectar
as the bee drank its fill?
Did you pick loveliness and place her in a vase,
watch the bloom fade and petals droop
and fall to nourish earth?
Did you proclaim the blessings we shared?
Zinnias
Zinnias bloom within my soul.
Why? I do not know.
Their roots sound growth,
seeds form, buds are born
perpetually, reminding me
I have always been,
will always be,
where is the dichotomy?
Apostrophe
The apostrophe has shadowed me ever
since my grade eight teacher took a boy’s
hat — my own — and threw it at the class.
Her reprimand touched upon how Jerusalem
was apostrophized to scale Lebanon, Bashan
and Abe rim, high mountains where one might
gaze at the ruins of the false leaders of Judah.
My teacher said I should submit
an essay, fully rectified, the next day.
O apostrophe, teach me the rules I should
have learned at school. And return my hat.
Bio: Monte Schooley grew up in the sanctuary of a rural community and learned about the natural world in the woods, where he came to understand the meaning of abundance. He passed his elementary school years in a one room school house, then after high school pursued undergraduate studies at McMaster University and a Master’s in Social Work at Laurier University. While working in the field of social services in Windsor, he taught at St. Clair Community College. He then purchased a small farm, where he grew asparagus and planted trees in whose shade he often sits to reflect on the woods of his childhood.