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Curated by Judy Gaudet

John and me, skating

The pond-ice, the river-ice, hardly held our long-legged stride.
Hatless and hero-heated, we stormed winter storms: The wind
at our backs rounding the river bend, into the open, where bonfires
burned. The houses up the harbour were Samothrace or Samarkand:
Cities, we’d know, for sure, someday. For sure, everything, everywhere
waited for us. We were twelve, we were fourteen.  Love hadn’t found us,
our bodies had: Wonders of muscle and bone. We were flight, we were
fluency – such lank-limbed lovelies – truant in the in-between time.
What couldn’t we do with looks lately learned, our spoon-bending
minds? We owned it all: Stars almighty, the unfenced distance,
and the river route to the four-points horizon no one else knew of.
When we were perfect we weren’t aware, and took it for granted.
It was windows all around in the sibling-centred universe.

—Anne Compton, from Alongside, Fitzhenry & Whiteside, 2013. Other books include Asking Questions Indoors and Out, Processional, and Opening the Island.

Island poet and avid poetry reader Judy Gaudet selects a poem by a PEI poet each month.
Judy's latest book is 
Conversation with Crows (Oberon,2014)

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