Canadian writer — Poetry & Prose (FEED)

Inhale. I take a deep breath in through my nostrils. The air travels through the cartilaginous rings of my trachea, divides at the bifurcation of the bronchi, rushes down smaller and smaller pathways. It expands my lungs, widening my ribcage, stretching my diaphragm, raising my collarbones. Seconds pass before I release the breath, letting it stream out slowly, whispering away to nothing. Exhale.

ProseCira NickelSeptember 1, 2016Nadja Lubiw-Hazard, fiction, CanLit, Canadian writerComment

Jen Currin: "The Magician"

The street sparkled with ice and the remnants of midnight. Angela loved walking at night, especially in winter. The air so cold it singed the hair in her nostrils, the tree branches a broken calligraphy against the sky, the moon whitely grinning or opening its mouth wide to aaahhh, to sing. The silence of the empty empty streets.

ProseClaire FarleyMay 23, 2016Jen Currin, Short fiction, Short story, Magician, Canadian, poet, Canadian writer Comment