dream borderlands

I am not your Iphigenia
oh father, you

who are not here anymore
to dispense judgement

disapproval or blessing
willy nilly like the wind when she wildly interferes

taking with her what she whirlingly wills, unhinging
doors right from their frames

carrying off to oblivion anything
not sufficiently tied down —

she shows no mercy.
dear you, father

I am not a sonnet but you can,
if you must, interpret these dream borderlands

in which your future self is watching you in your endless sleep
in which you win your war over the wind

at my expense.
the ruins now seem fitting as a starting place.

Razielle Aigen is a Montreal-born writer and artist. She is author of the forthcoming chapbook, Light Waves The Leaves (above/ground press 2020). Her poems appear or are forthcoming in Entropy, Contemporary Verse 2, The Anti-Languorous Project, Deluge, Bad Dog Review, Moonchild Magazine, Dovecote Magazine, Half a Grapefruit, Five:2:One, California Quarterly, and elsewhere. Razielle holds a B.A. in History and Contemporary Studies from Dalhousie/King’s University, and is an alumna of The Writer’s Studio at Simon Fraser University.