Fireflies

By Neil McClelland

​Unexpectedly alone with Dad at the hospital
He is someone else now
unselfconsciously showing me his diaper
and emaciated belly
confused by who he has become
Back at the farm I’m throwing frozen food
into the wooden compost bin
behind the woodshed
because no one lives here anymore
when two fireflies
open my feelings
a crack

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Bengal

By Neil McClelland

up in the night
      swirl of cat
   bengal patterns
        against the cow blanket
then the sudden order of stars 
around the moon

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A Danger to Myself

By Neil McClelland

​Filling fine bone china
from the cardboard coffee urn
after Dad’s funeral
I set the timer and hit start
turning I see my brother and his wife
They swivel their heads
to watch the microwave window
like it’s a television screen
passively bonded in mutual expectation
not warning me
of the potential for sparks
from the array of golden stars
 
With his whole weight
my brother holds the branch still
taut across the powerline
Thinking about how Dad would have done it
I push and drag the curved blade of the bright
orange extendable saw
as it skips and skates
trying to find a groove
My brother contemplates
how he will tackle me
grounded in his mudded rubber boots

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​Neil McClelland is a visual artist who has had solo and group exhibitions across Canada. Originally from the Gatineau Hills, Quebec, he divides his time between Edmonton, Alberta and Victoria, British Columbia. Neil has been previously published in Arc Poetry Magazine.