Tonight's Poet Corner: When I Couldn't Move to Canada
When I Couldn't Move to Canada by Belinda Roddie Disillusioned by my country, I sailed a boat to a coast where seashells cut the sky into strings of gold that grazed their ridges. I had the Atlantic breeze on my back, salt and sun and half-heartedly subdued sorrow, as I managed a trek to a village where a kettle of hot, strong tea awaited me, offered by a very kind woman in an old, black shawl. "There are lots of bullies where you come from," she remarked as I sipped the simmering brew, the skin on her lips peeling but not taking the shine away from her smile. "I should know. I have a television set." Bullies, yes. Red-faced and hungry for a future that I wanted no part of. Nor did they want me to share in it, either. I wrote a letter to my wife as soon as I could get my hands on a pen and paper. The one mailbox in the seaside town awaited its next meal, a feast of sentimentality and bloated apologies. I used the visage of a queen as
