Ellie Lamothe is a Sociology student, activist, and poet from K’jipuktuk (Halifax, NS). She’s passionate about feminism and collective healing, and is the founding editor of Laurels & Bells Literary Journal. Her work is forthcoming in Kissing Dynamite, Riza Press, and Constellations.


Poets Resist
Edited by Michael Carter
August 17, 2019

Ellie Lamothe

augury (love letter to the woman of my early twenties)

I. i know you are not always ready to give and / receive loving, like healing / is a practice / continuous / non-linear you learned early how to love dysfunctional / disorganized / demeaned you were taught to offer love / as collateral trauma as a transactional element / inherited / from a lineage of volatile / habitual women you will be 24 years old when your mother recalls being raped she tells you casually / over brunch as if it was not an ordinary day to begin with tells you about the knife in the door that failed to lock / the asphyxiation of memory while you spread marmalade on your toast / contemplate hunger of brutalized women you have learned to construct desire as more than an ideal / coerced from birth to be the sacrificial lamb at the altar / of femininity of lovers who dulled their sharp / edges on your body and called it radical / called it tenderness / accidental your love as more than the words / weaponized by those who only sought to consume you / spit you out in shards and claim you bloodied their mouth your love as [w]hol[l]y / rooted in the soil / in community / in bone the mythology of survival II. i know some days your love is / a harbinger of snarls and teeth / of strangers pining for intimacy / on vibrant screens gut filled with hibiscus for virtual rituals / of heaven bound modernity these ephemeral longings / of the timid and the ravenous this love that congregates in your belly / that bellows / stakes claim nourish it / and let the flesh ripen love for your self can look like redemption but it can also look like rage / let it move you to action either way until your love no longer recoils / but demands sanctuary honoured boundaries / afternoon soft serve kisses passionfruit syrup sticky between fingers to be dizzy with moscato and glittering / in the passenger seat until your love / rewrites the narrative as the omen / the great ceremony


Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
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