I want to steal back from you, everything that is me. My fists you did not fight. The nights I cried alone you did not call me or hold me. Told me you were tough, been where I been! Hustled what I hustled. Turns out no one remembered you you weren't there like I wanted you to be, for me, a safe place whenever the cops drove by me. Now that's gone because it turns out you weren't drinking with me after all either to kill what I was told to kill about myself. Turns out you were suffering some other kind of sadness, but you knew that. Turns out we weren't making love, you and I, but one of us was getting fucked and it wasn't you.
David Groulx Has as published 11 books of poetry. Nominated for the Archibald Lampman award in 2015 and 2019. His books have been translated into French, Ojibwa and Cree languages. Red River Review nominated his poetry for the Pushcart Prize. One Throne Magazine nominated his poetry for the National Magazine Award. Won the John Newlove award for poetry 2019. His poetry has appeared in over 200 magazines in 16 countries.