the ninth

While I Wait


I long to tell you the light  

in your eyes reminds me  

of a snow-covered lamp post  

calling to me in the night, 

to show how such fire  

breathes in me as the world  


is lulled to slumber. My cheeks  

warm to brave winter butterflies  

come to kiss me. Between white  

feathers nestling in trees, ice  

dust on grass becoming infinite  


mirror shards for light to bounce  

off, there is a world of fiery 

chill, there are hearts that leap  

like pop rock birches in chimneys, 

as mine does, when I think of you. 


I’ll hold on to the lamp post; snow  

does not fall alone tonight. 

Amélie Robitaille is a French Canadian who likes to think of ADHD as her superpower. She’s based in Mississauga, Ontario, where she publishes Savant-Garde Lit Mag. She holds a B.A. in Media Studies and is studying Creative Writing & Publishing at Sheridan College. Her work has been published by C&P Quarterly, Headline Poetry & Press, and is forthcoming in Crow & Cross Keys. She loves cooking, great puns, and cooking up a great pun.  

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