2 poems by Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews

Josie

Earwig 

You hatched from your mottled egg
Glossy black, like a coffee bean.

Dexterous and slim, you unhinged
A crooked quickness from calamity
Into the fissures of furniture
And ill-fitting floor trim.

Once, in horror, I watched you slide
From the plastic holes
Of a 60’s telephone receiver.

Pincers mongering old wives’ tales. 
Insinuating dread into ear canals,
Membrane and sinew. Entering
The sacristy of brain tissue
To clip away at reason. Bleeding me.

Curious, I searched the science
Of your claws’ evolutionary purpose,
Discovering their lack of sinister motives:
Just sensual arms for gripping mates. 

It made me think of the silhouette of a man
I saw once through a pub window.
Arms gesticulating explanations
To the still shadow of a woman
Sitting across from him.

In the light, behind the frosted glass
His arms moved like that.
Hands stiff like meat hooks.

One night while I sleep,
You will exit 
From your refuge of wall and floorboard
To clank your tiny, armored shell
Onto the polished wood of my night table.

You will dare your way upon my pillow
Dangling from hair to skin
Tearing me from sleep
With the sudden tickle
Of everything I have been averting,

As you knock unexpectedly

From the invisible apertures
Of my seemingly safe house. 





The Possum and The Moon 

Are out tonight 
And they are not the only ones 
On this cool May dusk. 
The moon, a plate 
Of abundant metaphors 
Spills out its captive sunlight, 
While beyond the tallest pines 
Cassiopeia’s brightest point, 
Blazes a beauty mark. 
I stand in my unavenged wonder 
Inside the star-lit glass dome 
Of this terrestrial sublunary 
World, womb of my skull’s carapace. 
I have placed slices of bread
And cut apples for the possum 
Who visits my stone porch 
At the closing of each sunset, 
When humans recede 
To their slumber
And animals surface 
Seeking sustenance 
Safe at last in the night's cover. 
Just me, the moon, a stone's throw 
Of stars and the possum
As the trees charcoal
Into night forests, nestling 
God’s creatures in their nests. 
The possum’s hands, my hands, 
The silent atrocities of nature’s food chain. 
My own angst and tragedies.
The planetary remoteness
Of this night’s own sadness
At the defeat of light By all its negations,
Except for the captive refractions
Of it in the blink of each star
Each stone, bloom, and animal,
Silvering Earth and the face of the moon.

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Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews

 was born in Italy in 1955. She emigrated to Canada with her family in 1968, at the age of twelve. She attended University of Toronto where she pursued an Honors Degree in French and Italian Literature; a Bachelor of Education; a Masters in Educational Administration and a Masters in Italian Literature. After graduating, she taught French and Italian for many years at the elementary, secondary and post secondary levels. Her love of literature eventually led her back to take writing courses through the University of Toronto  and she alson joined the Ontario Poetry Society, where she is now manager for the Oakville chapter; the League of Canadian Poets; the Canadian Italian Writers Association; and the Heliconian Club for Women in the Literary Arts of Toronto.

   Josie has published seven collections of poetry: The Whispers of Stones, Beret Days Press, 2007; Sea Glass, Espresso Bar Publishing, 2008; The Red Accordion, Lyrical Myrical Press, 2014; Letters from the Singularity, In Our Words Inc.  2015; A Jar of Fireflies, Mosaic Press, 2015; Sunrise Over Lake Ontario, Espresso Bar Publishing, 2017;  and Meta Stasis, Mosaic Press, 2021. As well, she has published two non-fiction books: How the Italians Created Canada, Lone Pine Publishing/ Dragon Hill Press, 2007;  and In The Name of Hockey, Friesen Press, 2010. Some of her poems have been translated into Spanish, Chinese, Italian and Farsi. Her work has been widely published in literary journals, magazines and anthology collections, among which, Ireland’s The Blue Nib, India’s Litterateur and France’s Lothalorian. Some of her poetry is showcased on The Niagara Falls Poetry Project Website, Poem Hunter, University of Toronto Radio, Ottawa Farsi Radio’s Namashoum Poetry Show, Eh Poetry Canadian Poetry Podcast and BBC’s David Vickery’s poetry podcast.

   Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews’ poem In Those Meticulous Rituals of Dressing for Our Sunday Best, has recently won a jury prize in the International Poetry Prize in Rome, Italy’s Citta del Galateo poetry contest for poets writing in English. Her poem The First Time I Heard Leonard Cohen is being nominated for a Pushcart Prize this fall. Her poems have been shortlisted for The Malahat Review’s Open Season Award; Descant’s Winston Collins Best Canadian Poem Prize; and The Canada Literary Review’s Summer Poetry Competition.

   Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews passions are her sons, family and friends, nature, words, music, books  and all things beautiful. She  lives and writes in Oakville, Ontario, Canada.

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Published by darcie friesen hossack

Darcie Friesen Hossack is a graduate of the Humber School for Writers. Her short story collection, Mennonites Don’t Dance, was a runner-up for the Danuta Gleed Award, shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers Prize and the Ontario Library Association's Forest of Reading Evergreen Award for Adult Fiction. Citing irreverence, the book was banned by the LaCrete Public Library in Northern Alberta. Having mentored with Giller finalists Sandra Birdsell (The Russlander) and Gail Anderson Dargatz (Spawning Grounds, The Cure for Death by Lightening), Darcie is now completing her first novel where, for a family with a Seventh-day Adventist father and a Mennonite mother, the End Times are just around the corner. Darcie is also a four time judge of the Whistler Independent Book Awards, and a career food writer. She lives in Northern Alberta, Canada, with her husband, international award-winning chef, Dean Hossack.

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