U of T student Terese Mason Pierre is back with two new poems that tackle the uncomfortableness of confinement in different ways. Her application of space and materiality on concepts such as the self and dreams provides an interesting perspective of reality in confessional poetry.
I am trapped inside a cage:
Written by someone who doesn’t know
Stars someone else—
While I am a footnote,
Only to give reference to
The When, Where and How.
I Dream Too Big
I dream too big.
I dream too wide,
My hats will stretch if I keep dreaming,
My mind will come apart at the seams
And my dreams will spill all over the floor and soak into the carpet.
No use crying over spilled dreams!
I’ll just make more;
I use the freshest ingredients.
I don’t have any space in my apartment for my dreams:
I’ve filled my cupboards with them;
I’ve stuffed them into drawers and under my bed and in my bathtub and even in my shoes.
But I keep dreaming.
My dreams go to sleep with me and they wake up fatter.
They jostle for space on my bed.
I sleep on the couch now.
My problem is that I dream too big
I brought a bunch of my dreams to share with my friends once.
I unzipped my mouth and they poured out and cluttered the table.
“My dreams,” I said. “Look. Aren’t they amazing?”
“They’re too big,” my friends said.
And they told me to please shut up because my dreams take up too much of the conversation.
They wanted to talk about their dreams, too:
The ones they primp and trim like little dogs.
Their dreams are not as wild as mine,
And they know it.
My parents say I have to choose only one dream.
But how can I, when they’re all so beautiful,
When they’re all so big,
So full of juicy wonder?
I want to eat them and spit out the seeds,
I’ll plant them now so they can grow into more dreams that I can harvest later
When I’m old.