Wild Horse

by Christian Ward

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You thrash like a wild horse 
in your sleep. The corral 
of dreams not enough to hold 
you. What of the prairies
of stars? The meadows 
of galaxies? Deserts of dark
matter? Wherever you’ll run,
I’ll reign in the night to let you 
aspire to whatever you were 
meant to be.

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Curating Death

by Diana L. Gustafson

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“What’s death got to do with it?” Our museum tour guide grins as she makes the irreverent reference to Tina Turner’s best-selling hit. Patty knows how to grab the attention of Gen X tourists clustered around her in the grand centre block of Toronto’s Royal Ontario Museum. In a former life, she was probably everyone’s favourite high school music teacher.

Patty leans in. “Death simultaneously intrigues and repels us.” I know she’s speaking to me. I signed up for the afternoon tour because I was curious about burial rituals practised in ancient times. At least, that’s what I tell myself. Easier than facing tough questions haunting my messy life. I soon discover that each pause on the tour unearths relics of my struggles to make sense of love and death.

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