Angela Hibbs (she/they) lives in Nogojiwanong, Ontario, the traditional territory of the Mississauga First Nations where she teaches Science of Reading. She is the author, most recently, of Control Suppress Delete.
“‘Maps’ references Noire et Blanche (1926) by Man Ray, which has always resonated with me as self and performance, masks we wear and ones we don’t know why we wear.“
I measure the distance from my mouth to my heart, it is less than two hands’ length.
Inform the beloved or have work checked.
Dreams are defined by uncontrollability.
Let’s meet again before the invention of time.
I deserved that. The protagonist’s voice. Let the first line be a quote.
Indicate the star.
The minor character is
required to repeat all the things that injure her.
The Old French, injure, wrongful action, no guilty
party. Whose weight was on whose spine or why. A chiropractor is not a psychologist. Be sure the weight
is on the spine or ear, the shoulders is too obvious.
One kiss hadn’t been invented. Always it was a verse of kisses punctuated with breaths:
the giver and the receiver sign with sighs.
I return to study every pore, line them up with my own.
Adversity recruits.
We were t-boned just outside of city limits.
Memorable impacts
with whiplash and OPP.
Let’s meet again after the destruction of time.
A kiss is the meeting of artifacts.
The two esses in kiss are kissing, the ou in bisou make the speaker pout.
Everything those nerve endings recall.
To call that electricity isn’t inaccurate.
Kept secrets disintegrate.
We are not t-boned, it is just the car. We are contained.
And contained again.
